The Yolenga/Raithir Island Affair (Tyran Only)

[Mubata]

Two Years Before Yolenga Liberation

A drought wipes out a good amount of the year’s crop yield for Mubata. Soy, wheat, tobacco and coffee bean crops suffer. The government seizes stocks and starts rationing.

One Year, 10 Months Before Yolenga Liberation

With growing inflation and threats of the Government seizing assets to pay foreign debts, there is a run on the banks.

KARALAGA

One large protest leads to a run on the First National Mubatan Bank which is repulsed by riot police in Karalaga. 48 civilians are killed and 2 policemen. A 24 hour curfew is put into effect. Massive crackdowns on unrest by government forces across Karalaga and Tenipako leaves another 64 people dead and countless injured.

One Year, 7 Months Before YL Event

Despite the deteriorating situation in the major cities, the campaign against the long simmering Marxist insurgency sees growing success. The major rebel group, the MFM (Mubatan Freedom Movement) is led by Chigama Dzogara, who rose up through the ranks and led them to several victories over government forces, as well as becoming popular with a good portion of the rural, non-Tizi population. Slowly, civilian support for the MFM has been cut off due to the efforts of the Hyenas, the elite special operations groups of the Mubatan Army, and Directorate 57, the Mubatan government state security agency.

One Year, 2 Months Before YL Event

Dzogara is now aging and not able to lead from the front as he once did in his heyday twenty years previously. His command group slows down and becomes easier to track.
Spearheaded by the Hyenas, Operation Short Spear strikes a gold mine as they uncover a recent camp of Dzogara and his closest cadre. Mubatan government forces close in and surround the MFM Leadership cadre.

6 Months Prior to YL Event

Unrest in the cities is mostly pacified. The situation throughout the country has somewhat stabilized, even though economic collapse is still near. Many of the protest and opposition leaders are jailed or dead. Any hope of a viable open political opposition to Fazembe is now about dead. Many controversial figures that are oppressed by the regime, such as artists, musicians, intellectuals and populists, flee to Gylias and other welcoming nations in Tyran, where expat communities have been thriving for decades.

Hyena Spec Ops commandos prepare to close in on the main MFM camp.

After two long months of firefights and air raids, Dzogara and the bulk of the MFM leadership is surrounded Northwest of Zangtopo. After an extended firefight, Chieftan Dzogara and most of the rebel leadership of the MFM is wiped out, along with 322 guerrilla fighters of the MFM. It is the greatest military victory of the Government forces in three decades of fighting the rebels, all under generations of Fazembes. What is left of the MFM leadership scatters into hiding in the southern mountains and Eastern savanna. The MFM goes dormant in order to rebuild and recover from the defeat. Lini Fazembe declares victory, possibly prematurely in many minds, in the war against the Marxist rebellion.

The Mubatan Navy is expanded with retired, aging ships from their major benefactor, Shalum, who also provides training for the core of officers, petty officers and new sailor recruits. The ships are refurbished and expected to be ready to sail in 3-4 months. Up to this point, the Mubatan Navy has consisted of fast attack and patrol craft, with nothing larger than a missile boat.

4 Months Prior to YL Event

Rather than scale down due to the dwindling threat from within, the Mubatan military begins to build up. Arms, vehicles and refurbished fighter jets are imported with aid from Shalum and other benefactors. Some vehicles and arms, come straight from Shalum as part of an aid package deal, while others are bought at cheap discounted rates. As part of the deal, a 50 year lease for a base is signed, to be located near Gyata.
Training is stepped up and the Hyena Groups are increased. Large amounts of heavy ordnance, including anti-ship missiles, are imported utilizing foreign financial aid, diverted from famine assistance.

Another food riot breaks out in Karalaga in protest to continued rationing while obvious foreign aid is pouring in. 37 people are shot down or trampled in mob violence and suppression.

3 Months Prior to YL Event

Linaga Fazembe, or Papa Lini, as he is popularly known, makes several speeches in Karalaga denouncing the Imperialism of the major Tyran powers, most notably calling out Nalaya and Ossoria, only one of whom is an actual regional power.

Shalumite advisers, many of them from the Maldorian minority, begin to arrive to train with the Mubatan army and air force. Construction continues on a new base for the Shalumite military, per agreements between the two nations.

With the start of hostilities in Nalaya, Mubatan troops monitor the southern border. A small trickle of Nalayan refugees are allowed in, but most of them are robbed and assaulted along the freeways by bandits and surviving MFM rebels before they can reach the refuge outside major Mubatan cities. Fazembe’s regime covers up the attacks on refugees and shuts down any media coverage of the incidents. Very few Nalayan refugees follow the first wave.

2 Months Prior to YL Event

Papa Lini Fazembe makes a speech, first in Tizi, then in English, proclaiming that it is Mubatan destiny to reunite Yolenga Island with the mainland. It has been a long simmering desire to reclaim Yolenga island from Ossorian rule, lost over a century ago during the King Szamba War when the Ossorians defeated the Tizi Empire and took control of the island off Mubata's western shores. Lini proclaims that the majority of Yolenga Island is of Mubatan ethnicity (the true figure would be under 20%), and that they long to be reunited with their brothers and sisters on the mainland. It is the destiny of this generation to finally right this Imperialist wrong and return Yolenga Island to the fold.

More rallies and mob demonstrations in the streets of Karalaga, Tenipako and Yaweto become violently anti-Nalayan and anti-Ossorian. Effigies of Protector Khavar T'avish and High Queen Tara Silven are burned. Inexplicably, the effigies wear the masks of Jay Leno and Angela Merkel.

The newly refurbished ships of the Mubatan Navy begin maneuvers between Yolenga Island and the Western coast.

3 Weeks Prior To YL Event

Papa Lini makes another rousing speech from the Presidential Palace balcony proclaiming the liberation of Yolenga is at hand. He goes on another anti-Ossorian rant but tones down the anti-Nalayan rhetoric.

Call ups of reserves and loosening of conscript restrictions, to bring the Army Regiments to full strength, are enacted. Up to this point, only 3 Regiments have ever remained at constant full strength.

---

LATER THAT MORNING

Papa Lini sat with some of his advisers and Ministers, plus General Etomo Nkoro, the Commander that would lead the Mubatan expedition to retake Yolenga. General Dzolema, the overall military commander in chief, was away inspecting and congratulating his units in the East on their recent victory against the rebels. Nkoro often acted as his second in command.

They were in a conference room of the Operations Center that had served the Fazembes for decades. It was from this very room that they had orchestrated for weeks, the final push that broke the back of the MFM insurgency.
He sat enjoying a snifter of brandy and a local made cigar, one of the major exports of Mubata. He had just enjoyed a large meal, which helped to maintain his large girth and he could visibly be seen going through the effects of digestion. He was no longer trying to hide his belches.

“...Anyway, Mr. President, I wish you had not announced the liberation so soon. I’ve asked you before if we could tone down the rhetoric so as not to alert the Ossorians and you have instead turned it up. I can’t...”

The Minister of Foreign Affairs broke in,
“I wouldn’t worry about that.” He laughed, “No one follows what goes on in Mubata, outside of Mubata. Even if some report were to make it to them, do you really think they would bother to read it, let alone worry about us down here? They will just see it as a lot of hot air...We’re safe from attention.”

Papa Lini waved his hand, glossing over the ‘hot air’ implication from the Minister.
“Yes, that is probably true, but after the liberation, they will take notice that we are a power to contend with.” He said it with pride.

General Nkoro spread his hands flat on the table.
“Beg your pardon, Mr. President, but I thought the whole point was that this whole operation would slip under the Ossorian radar. That we wouldn’t make a big spectacle of it and they wouldn’t care to try to retake the Island. The less damage done, the more that is possible.”

The Foreign Affairs Minister nodded,
“Mmhhmm. That is true. The Ossorians don’t seem to care much what goes on with Raithir...What they call the Island. They barely remember it exists. I think we can send their Governor and staff packing and it will be less bureaucracy and infrastructure they will have to worry about budgeting. They will be secretly grateful.”

Nkoro squinted his eyes at the Minister.
“You do realize they have a garrison on the island, plus some other military hardware. At least a company’s worth of men. They aren’t going to just wave a white flag and jump on the first plane out...It may become a matter of honor as we will most certainly hand them a defeat...Initially, anyway. The Ossorians are not used to being defeated, especially by an attack from the sea. Especially after we have rubbed their noses in it, also. Coming from a smaller power such as ourselves, that will be the final insult to them. They may take up the gauntlet and not let it go unchallenged. We haven’t even covered a possible Nalayan reaction.”
The Nalayans had a substantial population on the southern portion of the Island, as well. With their civil war coming to full boil and being focused on internal matters, it was doubtful that they would react at all, but he felt it needed to be a factor considered.

Lini Fazembe put his cigar and snifter down and folded his hands.
“I chose you, Etomo, to lead the liberation because I have faith that you will get the job done. Once you defeat them. And you will defeat them...Then you will fortify the island and we will fly or ship over whatever you will need. If they decide to retake Yolenga, they will have to fight for every bloody centimeter of it. They will tire of the exercise and go home.” He grabbed the cigar again and waved his hand,
“Besides, we have mighty powerful friends that will back us.”

The Minister smiled, but looked slightly uneasy. When he had contacted his opposite at the Shalumite ministry, he had been told the Shalumites most vehemently opposed any move made to retake the Island, and then the Shalumite Foreign Affairs Minister proceeded to list every way it was a horrible idea to rattle sabers against the Ossorians. In practicality, the Shalumites were gearing up to aid a faction in Nalaya, and wouldn't be able to lend much backing support to the Mubatans on Yolenga, even if they wanted to. However, the Minister was never one to counter the grandeur wishes of Papa Lini with such inconvenient facts. He kept his mouth shut.

Lini went on.
“I have other matters to attend to, and you, General, have final preparations to take care of...”

“I do, indeed.”

“So we shall part ways. We are on the eve of a great victory for the Mubatan people. I cannot wait to celebrate it. I want plenty of pictures.” With that, the large man scooped up his snifter and with barely a nod, started to amble out his special entrance of the planning room of the Operations Center.

The Interior Minister felt he needed to add in his bit.
“What an adventure for us! We can finally be equals at the Tyran table.”

Nkoro began to stand up.
“You do understand that we will not be able to stand up to the Ossorian might, should they turn their full military machine upon us?”

“And you realize, that even if this ends in defeat, we can beg aid and reparations from the Ossorians?”

“From the very people we attacked? Yes, that sounds like a...solid plan.” He exuded sarcasm.

Kwazema, Lini’s right hand man and officially the Prime Minister, had been silent up to this point, but now chose to speak,
“Yes. From the Ossorians, from the Shalumites, maybe Cacertans...aid from someone. Either way, we win.
If we win, and they let us hang on to the island, we have increased our resources, and distracted people from the troubles at home with that drought and the inflation. We give them an incredible victory against the region's Goliath. If we lose, then...So be it. The Ossorians will be guilted into not letting us sink into a chaotic morass after destroying our economy. It will be painful for us, sure. They will put military limitations on us, but...We gain financial stability. It’s not the most desirable option, but it could be worse…”

General Nkoro grabbed his headgear and headed to the door, but he shot the Ministers a sideways glance.
“You do not serve either the people or your President well by encouraging such madness.”
He walked out, done with the ludicrous 'Mouse That Roared' scenarios. He tuned out their ineffectual replies to his back as he continued down the hall and out of the Operations Center.

[Mubata]

Yolenga Island

2 Days Prior to D-Day

Mi-8 helicopters of the MAF took off from Gyata after midnight. Some carried rubber inflatable boats with motors strapped on, others carried toughened commandos of the Doa Group of the Hyenas, Mubata’s Special Operations forces that had a key part in the defeat of the MFM. As they approached Yolenga at low altitude, the rafts and men were dropped into the surf two thirds of the way out. The men quickly swam their way to the rafts and climbed aboard, unstrapping the small, quiet motors and headed in. They took neoprene covers off their PV-38K carbines and prepared to hit the shores. The transport helicopters headed back for the long flight that would put them near empty as they approached Gyata.

The LZs were beaches that had been reconnoitered before by agents on fishing trawlers. It had been determined that these were the best beaches with the least amount of nocturnal activity on which to attempt landings. While the Hyenas were more of a land group, they had practiced the maneuvers relentlessly with Shalumite advisers on Lake Pagama, until they were flawless.

The teams of Doa Group brought their RIBs up unto the beaches at several points stretching from the north near Rafinda, all the way around to south of Martuni. While there might have been some local observers at some of the beaches, the dark warriors of the night did their best to carry on, ignoring the locals that did happen to spot them during the early morning hours before dawn. They had orders not to shoot unarmed civilians. By dawnbreak, they had faded into the interior.

D-Day of The Yolenga Liberation

The task force set sail from Gyata. The flagship of the Liberation Force, as well as the whole Mubatan navy, was MSR Fazembe, an aging frigate sold to them from Shalum. At the bridge were Admiral Uzanda and General Nkoro, observing as they neared the Northeastern coast of Yolenga Island. Ahead of the task force, flights from the Kipanga squadron flew in low, having launched from the AIr base south of Gyata. Paraya FACs sped ahead, or hung back and circled, acting as pickets for the corvettes and frigate.

---

RAFINDA, YOLENGA

The two fisherman spread the nets out onto the beach, preparing to pick them over and clear out the seaweed and debris when one stopped after glancing up at the sky at the Viggen fighters rocketing past overhead. Then he looked out into the bay. He pointed,
“Hey look at that!”

One of the men’s sons ran up, also having spotted the boats out in the distance.
“Papa! Are those the Ossies?”

“Probably. I dunno.”

“Son, go get the Mku. Let him know what’s going on.”

“Yes, papa.” The boy ran off as they continued to watch.

They continued to work on the net as the ships drew closer, occasionally glancing at the progress of the intruders, while working.Then as landing craft headed towards them, they stopped to give the scene their full attention.

“The Ossorians are doing maneuvers again? Why can’t they do this off Dunkitt like they usually do?”

“Those aren’t Ossies. Look at the flags. That is the Mubatan navy.”

The other man paused for a bit, blinking. Then he finally responded.
“Mubata has a navy?!”

“Well, you see the flags, don’t you? Apparently they do.”

Word had spread as the boy had gone back to seek out the Mku. More people from town gathered on the beach.
The first craft to approach the beach disgorged it’s occupants. Some were Mubatan soldiers, wearing the broad patterned mustard, brown, tan and light green camo fatigues of the Mubatan Army. They had web gear on, small rucksacks, and carried PV-38 Assault Rifles. This was only a smaller portion of the load from the craft, though. They were on escort duty, fanning out and forming a security cordon, careful to walk around the fisherman and give deference to the other gathered locals.

The main party of occupants took the couple steps into the waves, before treading wet sand. Instead of assault rifles and weapons, they carried digital and video cameras, light boxes and other recording equipment. Some were in fatigues, but most wore civilian garb. A young Captain directed them to various spots on the beach. They immediately began to take pictures of the local people, but stopped as they were unable to capture the jubilation they had expected. They lost interest and began to set up and prepare for the occupants of the second landing craft. The ramp lowered and the occupants of BSC Athlit 24-127 waded through the surf dramatically for the cameras. The craft had intentionally stopped short, well before the first BSC Athlit, in order to provide the drama desired for those recording the historic event.

The second craft’s passengers were all soldiers, carrying the PV-38 rifles, as well as squad support weapons, MGs, AT launchers, MANPAD pieces, and other gear. An obvious officer emerged from among them, with the rank tabs of Major on his beret and lapels. He glanced around at the gathered journalists and photographers, before seeing the locals beyond them.
While it had been assumed that this part of the ‘story’ would be played out by General Nkoro, he had declined to participate in the media circus, instead delegating the Major to take his place.

He locked on and stepped up to the two fishermen that had been the original occupants of the beach that morning.
He paused, noting, as had many of his soldiers around him, that these were not the ecstatic, ebony skinned greeters they had been promised. They had much lighter, cocoa skin than your typical Mubatan. They were mchanganyiko (mixed), with generations of white Ossorians and Nalayans infusing their blood.
They didn’t crack a smile and wore sullen, confused expressions.

He spoke first in Tizi, then started again in English in response to their blank, puzzled faces.
“I am Major Djana Hatezi, of the 2nd Battalion of the 1st Mwanga Fusiliers. Congratulations on your liberation!”

“Liberation?”

“We are here to free you from Ossorian oppression, my Mubatan brothers!”

The two men glanced at each other.
“We are Rafindans. No one asked for your liberation...Major.”

Maj. Hatezi held his tongue, but his brows obviously furrowed. He plowed on.
“I need to speak with your Mku.”

One of the fishermen pointed back to where the summoned town chief, or Mku, made his way to the front of the crowd.
“I am Tobi, the Mku of Rafinda. What is your business here?”

“...Um...We are here for your liberation, of course! Yolenga is being reclaimed for Mubata…” He kept trying, “The natural order is being restored. Did no one inform you? Where are the Hyenas?”

“They are not native to this island.”

“No, no...The commandos. The special operations forces. They’ve been here for two days.”

“Oh...them.”
All the Rafindans exchanged glances. They had noticed the dark soldiers prowling around a few kilometers on the outskirts of town.
“They are still skulking around back in the woods, I assume. They never bothered to introduce themselves. We thought they were either sent from Dunkitt or pirates.”
It wasn’t all that unusual that armed men would be sneaking around some of the less inhabited parts of Yolenga. It had been a natural haven for smugglers for centuries.

In the background, one of the arriving landing craft hit one of the fishing boats, with an audible cracking heard of the weaker wooden boat’s hull. An ugly murmur rose up from the Rafindans, along with the shouts of the distressed boat owner.

The Major tried to recover the situation. None of this was going according to script.
“Well, we are here now, and we will reach out to the other Mubatan villages in the area. We will restore order, have no fear.”

“We didn’t have disorder before your arrival. We were perfectly fine. I think you’ll find that none of the other Mkus will be very receptive to your parade.”

One of the fishermen spoke up,
“Except for those clowns in Dzowaz and Jzokolo. They are the most chest pounding Mubatans I know.”

“Yes, except for Dzowaz. They will probably be very happy to see you and wave your flags.”

The Major continued to try to control his agitation.
“This...this isn’t some show parade! We are liberating Yolenga, here.”

“I have a duty to inform the Governor at Dunkitt of your presence.”

“No, you do not! That would be an act of treason. You are under Mubatan authority now. Dunkitt will know we’re here soon enough, don’t you worry. That is our next stop after all. Why don’t you escort us into the town center and we will get started.”

The Mku hesitantly complied. Soldiers continued to move gear onto the beach, as fishermen tried to rescue their boats from harm’s way, but were often discouraged or held back at gunpoint. Vehicles arrived soon after the first couple landing craft, including M20 Dobermann tanks and Honey Badger IFVs, from a company of the 6th Mkononi Dragoons that were attached to the 1st Mwanga, as well as artillery, SPAAGs, and missile trucks from C Co./1st of the 10th Bunduki. The last to arrive were engineers from the 3rd Bn/16th Msaidizi, whose job it would be to construct an airstrip further south of Rafinda in the next few days, building upon and improving an old smugglers airstrip that had existed in that spot.

The Hyenas that had landed in this sector had taken the opportunity of the distraction of the main landing to come out of the woods and commence to destroy anything that could be used as communications gear to transmit to the West or south sides of the island. This included confiscating any cell phones possessed by the locals. No locals were killed, but two resisting men were clubbed and had to be administered to by a Hyena medic. 7th Team/Doa Group had deduced from the two days observation, long before the landing of the 1st Mwanga, that the Rafindans would not be as loyal as first suspected and could not be trusted. Inexplicably to the Mubatan regulars, they hadn’t bothered to transmit that information back to Task Force Command.

---

Meanwhile, one of the corvettes and some of the fast attack craft stayed on station while the Task force began sailing on around the north cape of the island on their journey to Dunkitt, the Ossorian Governor’s seat of power that administered the island, via Epston.

The Saab Viggen flight of the 1st Kipanga squadron raced over the interior to target the Ossorian radars, any air defense that may have gone unnoticed before, bunkers and heavy machine gun emplacements, with radar homing missiles and other ground attack munitions. The liberation of Yolenga was well under way.

[Ossoria]

The Mubatan troops began to divert the heavier vehicles, wheeled artillery, trucks and other items on the road around the town heading west, preparing for their inland push through the center of the island. One boy watched from the woods. He was finally glad to have his woods back from the night warriors that had been lurking there the last couple days. They had rushed quickly into the town, and so the boy could have back his freedom, and for that he was glad as this was where he came to think. At the moment the events of the morning pressed in on his mind.

They had always been left alone by Dunkitt, to live their lives. They had the most freedom. He didn’t know much about his ancestral home, Mubata, but what he’d heard, he didn’t like. None of the elders spoke about Mubata with much love, and they had only bad things to say about the government. Some, like his family, had been there since their grandparents’ grandparents time. They had relatives to the West, over the mountains, and even to the South, across the river. They had lighter skin because some old relatives of his had joined with the Ossies, and even a few Nava’ai. It was the same in the other Yolengan villages. They did things differently in different villages, but they were the same people mostly, who wanted the same things.

Many others had fled their old homeland, since even before his parents time, to the freedom of the Island. People continued to come to the Island for a better life, and they were welcomed. The fishermen liked to dock here and sell their catch, to be traded to the west and north, rather than pay the taxes at Mubatan docks. Some even made the journey to Hemar once a year for the big catches. They all used Coróins, not nearly worthless Dugaloes, and they traded for Ossorian goods. No one wanted to be Mubatan, or at least not live like one.

Now here were soldiers from the East, there to give them orders, take things, be in their way and make life bad, like Mubata. He knew for sure this was not what his family, friends and neighbors wanted, but he wasn’t sure what he could do about it.
It was then that he looked up. Zala, his bibi (grandmother), came slowly out to the edge of the woods, she braced his bike next to her hip. She was wise, and she knew right where he usually played, even though he tried to hide from everyone. She focused her eyes right on him through the trees and motioned him back towards her.
He ran up, worried that the soldiers might have hurt her.
“Are you okay, Bibi?”

“You need to go, little one. Now, while the soldiers are busy. They will be here very soon. Take the bike…”

“And do what, Bibi?”

“Warn Chynelle. Warn the Ossies. This can’t happen. These soldiers aren’t here to be nice. We will lose everything. Go now. Ride the bike as fast as you can.”

“I can’t ride that far, Bibi.”

“You ride to Old Rifi’s near Bivkawa. He has a boat. Tell him what is happening. He will know what to do....”

“But...you…”

“We’ll be fine here. You GO!”

Without further argument, he hopped on the bike and rode. He understood that tone from Bibi. There was no arguing or wasting time. Eventually, within a couple hours of riding as fast as his little body could, he made it to outside Bivkawa, taking every solid road and trail he knew, but hiding in the bushes when he heard loud engines. He told Rifi, in-between catching his breath, the events of the morning. The old man waved.
“Say no more, boy. Zala was wise to send you to me. We must hurry. Time is precious.”

They ran towards the river and hopped in Rifi’s boat. The boy was tired from all the biking and now running. The craft was an old, beat up aluminum job that he used to catch small crocs, birds and turtles along the river, but it would make it. It did have quite a powerful motor. They would have to ford around a couple parts as they neared the pass between the mountains, but they would do their best and Rifi could phone ahead to friends in the area that could help them run the boat along the shore faster. Logic would say he should just phone the Ossorian garrison directly, but that didn’t occur to him. He didn’t have any direct way to get a hold of them, and also, they would still probably want to talk to the boy. In another three hours, the old man and boy had made the journey. The sound of jets overhead made Rifi think they may be too late.

One of his friends that helped them ford the boat actually did call to the local constable in Chynelle, who in turn contacted the garrison, so that Rifi and Kano would be expected.
They tied up the boat and were taken the short trip from the river docks by vehicle to the garrison, where after passing security, they were shown into the Major’s office.

---

Major Talek Anwill, the commanding officer of the Raithir Marine Security Company, was on the phone with his second-in-command in Dunkitt, Captain Evette Hensey, when the pair were escorted to his office. A TV mounted on the wall showed the ruins of the Navy’s radar outposts in Bergel and Llanda, accompanied by a collection of eyewitness testimonies which had all amounted to the same thing in the Major’s mind: someone somewhere was attacking the island. A ground-attack missile strike on both of the island’s main surveillance radar sites did not leave much room for doubt on that front.

The Book said that he needed to concentrate his forces in Chynelle with Captain Hensy’s detachment in Dunkitt, and the base was seething with activity as the Marines prepared to move out. Most of them were engaged in loading the garrison’s vehicles with weapons, ammunition and other supplies while others tried to get any kind of picture on the situation which had blown up in their faces; all of them were armed, their RI-7 assault rifles slung over their shoulders and they moved with a purpose.

The Major noticed the two civilians walk in with an escort, who handed him a note explaining that they were here with information for him before leaving, and pointed them towards two chairs facing his desk while he listened to Captain Hensey’s report of the evacuation of noncombatants from the area around the Marine barracks and Governor’s house in Dunkitt.

“Continue the evacuation as long as you can, try to hand it over to the civilian law emergency personnel if you can, then have your troops barricade the compound. I’ll let you know if anything more develops, Captain.”

Anwill turned to face the civilians as he hung up his phone. He extended his hand towards the older of the two, “I’m Major Anwill, Royal Ossorian Marines. What can I do for you two gentlemen?”

“Yes, sir. My name is Rifi. Rifi Hejima, from Bivkawa. This is little Kano, from Rafinda. We have traveled far to get here, but hopefully we are not too late. Forgive my bluntness…” Mubatans didn’t always get straight to the point with strangers in polite company. “...He saw some things there in Rafinda this morning that you might need to hear about.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy, feeling on the spot, felt tears come to his eyes. He didn’t know how to start and it had all finally caught up with him. He felt overwhelmed and choked up. “I...I...saw bad things.”

Major Anwill waited a moment before speaking again. “Did you see something that may have to do with what’s going on elsewhere on the island?” he asked, pointing to the scenes on the television.

Old Rifi looked at the television.
“Ahhh...Nchi Mama...We’re too late. They have attacked.”

The boy was sobbing now.
“Did I do wrong, Rifi? Was I bad?”

“No boy, go ahead. Not your fault. You should still talk...I think.”

“The Mubatans. They are being bad. They are causing trouble. They are coming here, I think. That’s what they said in town....They had guns...Big ones too, bigger than a man. Big cars with guns...All coming down the road...To the pass, along the river. They are going west.”

Major Anwill’s expression hardened at the boy’s words. “You’re saying that the Mubatans are on the island? When did they arrive? Did you see how they got here, did they use...airplanes or boats?”

Rifi nudged the boy.
“It’s ok, kidogo moja. Tell him.”

“They had boats, big ones and small ones. They came out of big boxes that floated...I...smaller than the bigger ones, but big. They got here this morning.” The boy had calmed as he recited what he saw. He sniffed a bit and wiped at the tears. “We are Rafindans. We told them. We didn’t want trouble. They don’t belong…”

Anwill turned in his chair to look at a blown-up map of the island, his eyes tracing the roads emanating from Rafinda. He shouted past the two civilians to one of the Marines he had operating his communications, “Corporal! Try and raise Epston, ask if they’ve any reports of strange activity.” He turned back to the two civilians and tried to smile for the boy’s sake. “Thank you for the information, it’s a lot more than we had before you came in. Was there anything else you could tell me about what you saw?”

“Tanks!” The boy burst out, suddenly struck with the thought. “They’re called tanks. The cars with the big guns...right? Oh, yes...um...the big ships were going on, towards Epston…” He latched onto the name the Major had said, “...No...further. Dunkitt. That’s it. They’re going to visit Dunkitt. That’s what the head guy of the Mubatans said on the beach to our Mku. I was there. I heard it. I listen a lot. Zala says I’m a good listener. But I was also a good watcher this time…” The boy tapered off, realizing that he wasn’t adding anything more helpful, now.

Anwill’s expression froze at the boy’s outburst. If the Mubatans were landing tanks, they were landing a lot more than his small command could reasonably hope to oppose directly. The Book didn’t really cover this situation, but there was one thing that The Book made crystal clear: Kenlis had to be warned.

He took a breath before he spoke again, “Thank you for your information, Kano. I’ll see to it that your courage and service is recognized. If you’ll excuse me, I need to...”

Rifi put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Wait, there’s one more thing the boy told me, Sir. You may need to hear this. Tell him...About the night soldiers. In the woods.”
The boy had thought up until that day that the men in the woods were either Ossorian soldiers from this garrison, or smugglers, which were not all that uncommon around the northern coastal area.

The boy had started to pick at his nose and smile, glad to be recognized by name by the Ossorian officer. Once again, his face changed to one of concentration as he recalled what Rifi was talking about.
“Oh yeah...the night soldiers. They moved quieter. They got there a couple days before the boat soldiers. They just kept sneaking around and staying like...so many trees away. They waited until the boat soldiers came, then they went into town. That’s...it. I think that’s it.”

Anwill stomped on a flare of anger at the fact that nobody had seen fit to alert the authorities about these ‘night soldiers’ when they first arrived before it could reach his face. It wouldn’t change the facts he was now faced with in the slightest. Instead, he nodded to them both. “Thank you for that information as well as all you have already given us. I’ll make sure my superiors know of both of your help in this. Sergeant Kethin will see you out. Stay safe out there.”

---

After the civilians had been escorted out of his office, the corporal he had tasked with contacting Epston returned. “We can’t get any kind of response from Epston, my lord.”

“That’s because the Mubatans are in control of the town. They’re on a least-time route to Dunkitt.” Anwill was looking at his map of the island again. He looked at the roads leading from Epston, no fewer than three of which led directly towards Dunkitt. There was no way he could get to Captain Hensey’s detachment before the Mubatans arrived.

He turned around as two more Marines entered the room. The younger of the two, another corporal, spoke up first. “The Navy just reported that they lost one of their FACs off Caerne, and before she went off the air, her CO reported several ships skirting the coastline on a westerly course.”

Anwill grimaced at the news. “We can’t hold the island,” he admitted. “I’m going to need a line to Captain Hensey, I have to at least warn her that she’s about to be neck-deep in shit in the next two hours at the most. After that, I need to contact Kenlis and appraise them of the situation and my intentions.”

“May I ask what your intentions are, my lord?” Gunnery Sergeant Tressa Kethin asked.

“If we can’t hold the island, the least we can do is try and play merry hell with those who try to hold it. We’ll get as much of our gear into the mountains as possible and organize as much of a guerrilla campaign as we realistically can. At the very least we can pinprick them where they’re sore and hand off any information we can get to the higher ups for when they come back to kick the Mubatans in the teeth. Gunny, get the logistics pukes moving on this, I doubt we have more than a few hours to get everything we need, torch the place and then make ourselves scarce.”

Sergeant Kethin nodded and jogged out the office, while Anwill walked towards the radio equipment. After issuing orders for everyone not needed to actually operate the system to get whatever they could carry out to the trucks, he contacted Dunkitt.

“I presume you have something new for me, Major?” Captain Hensey asked.

“Yes, and you’re not going to like it any more than I like having to tell you.”

“I’m a big girl, Major, I can handle it.”

“I hope so, Captain, because in two hours at most you’re going to be under siege by the Mubatans and there is no way we can get there in time. Even if we could, they’re on the island in sufficient strength to overwhelm us anyway.”

“...Shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Can it, sir. You say you can’t get here and that you’d do about as much good as you could putting out a wildfire by pissing on it. Fine. What are my orders?”

“Once you have exhausted all practicable options to defend your position, you are to destroy any sensitive materials you have and surrender your command, I don’t want you or your Marines dying needlessly.”

“...Understood, my lord. We’ll give them hell while we can. Osraí be with you.”

“You as well, Captain.”

Anwill killed the connection and started dialing into the secure strategic information net which connected all Ossorian military stations. “This is Major Talek Anwill, Raithir Station. Authentication code Beith-Ceirt-Dair-Eight-Five-Two. Case Marigold. I say again: Marigold, Marigold, Marigold.”

---

Major Anwill’s message instantly eliminated the routine message traffic that was passed along the strategic communications network. That message was only to be used in real-world situations and had but one meaning: an invasion of the High Kingdom’s territory was imminent or underway. The network was silent almost as much from the shock of hearing a Case Marigold declared as it was by design. Nobody had seriously threatened to physically invade the High Kingdom in decades; Ossoria’s traditional rivals knew all too well what the consequences of that were likely to be.

And yet it was happening.

One by one, the various stations reported their readiness, went to heightened alert and generally cleared the airwaves to allow Major Anwill to give his report to Kenlis. Fighter aircraft were quickly armed with warshots before being scrambled. Naval armories exploded into activity as warships moved from their moorings to take on live munitions. Marines donned battle dress and patrolled with loaded rifles. It was part of a meticulously planned and practiced script designed to protect against anything that could follow up a Marigold declaration.

[Mubata]

EPSTON

They had made rapid progress. The ships had settled off Epston in a protective cordon as landing craft brought more troops to land on the beaches near the major Ossorian Yolengan port, from the 1st Bn of the 1st Mwanga Fusiliers with more mechanized, armor and artillery support units attached, much like the 2nd/1st Mwanga, that was by now, coming up upon the central mountains from their journey west from Rafinda.

Only one company, D, from 1/1 would join the attack on Chynelle, while the rest of the battalion split off, with most of the support, towards Dunkitt

Mubatan troops of the Liberation Task Force arrive near Epston.

The infantry were on shore first, to make sure that any possible unknown Anti-armor guns or AT teams bearing launchers were shut down before they could take out the valuable armored units. An assault on Epston was unnecessary, considering the only military target of value, the local radar station, had already been taken care of buy the Viggens of the MAF. Still, a more rash General than Nkoro would have initiated the landing with preliminary air strikes on any major structures. Besides being too risky to the local civilian populace, which could adversely affect International opinion, it was not a wise use of resources. Mainly though, General Nkoro worried about not turning the populace against them, whether they were Ossorian, Mubatan or Nalayan ethnics. He knew it was a tall order with the officers he had under his command, many who had experience bullying Mubatan villagers suspected in aiding MFM rebels.

Unlike the landings at Rafinda, the arriving Mubatan forces still expected some type of response if not a full military defense, possibly a small Ossorian patrol or local police station. They weren’t to be disappointed.

The first Mubatan casualty of the invasion occurred when a constable fired upon the soldiers heading off the beaches, wounding one in the arm and leg. The constable was promptly cut down by a Mubatan corporal brandishing a squad support weapon. Actually, he was literally cut in two, as several other rounds from PV-38 AR’s also reached him. The Lieutenant in charge of that section was able to stop any more bloodshed to be unleashed on the innocent townsfolk by the marauding Mubatan regulars in retaliation for their comrade, but just barely.

---

THE AIR WAR

On the horizon, the nearby radar station, one of only two on Yolenga, lay smoldering after the attack by the Viggens of Kapinga Squadron. The fighters had turned around immediately to head for Gyata, as they had reached the limits of their dedicated time over target, and were in danger of not making it home.

Another flight of Viggens was already on station to replace them and hunt for any remaining ground targets, as Gyata base continued to cycle through CAP flights from the two top fighter squadrons of the MAF.

Another flight was taking a run at strafing and rocketing Ossorian FACs that remained off the coast, doing the dirty work so that the Naval task force could clean up afterwards. In that way, they hoped to eradicate the last Ossorian naval threats that remained in the AO (Area of Operations). The RCB-32 Parayas headed in to deal with any of the remaining Ossorian naval craft that had managed to avoid or survive the attacks by the slightly antiquated fighter planes of the MAF.

Two flights remained on station over Northwestern Mubata, in anticipation of any hostile neighbors taking advantage of Mubata’s preoccupation with Yolenga. A third other flight was preparing to escort the AWACs and RCC General aircraft into the sky that would take station off the Western coast and over Yolenga Island.

A fourth and final flight was on CAP over the eastern half of the country to cover any eventualities in that sector. LIRCAS Sergeants also were at the ready to call for ground attack missions across the country. While others were being prepared to make the flight over to Yolenga in order to go to work, alongside the Mangusta gunships, in suppressing any resistance on the island.

They would be stationed at the air base being furiously constructed by the combat engineers of the 3rd Bn/16th Msaidizi. The base was closer in approximation to Jzokolo than to Rafinda, just off the coast, and would make use of steel tarmac strips that could be rapidly bolted together, courtesy of Shalum. The first thing they put up though, were landing pads and refueling set ups complete with gas tanks landed near Rafinda, for the continuing helicopter traffic coming in from Gyata. Once the western half of the Island was captured, they would be able to make use of the Ossorian civilian airstrips there, including whatever fuel supplies had been left behind, they hoped.

Being serviced, prepped for arming, but short of being warmed up were the Sukhoi 24 multi-role bombers of Kivuli squadron, stationed at two strategic MAF bases. It was certain their time would come, but not until whatever Ossorian response arrived in the AO, if any. There was still the mentality in many government and military circles that the Ossies would cede control of the Island without a fight, beyond the defenders already present.

RAFINDA

Before the 2nd/1st Mwanga were ready to start out towards the reported garrison in Chynelle, the Major's vehicle was flagged down by the 7th team from Doa Group/Hyenas. In one of many near tragedies of the day, they were nearly gunned down by the Major's tense armed escort in the accompanying APC. It would have been bloody on both sides as they tensed to return fire. Major Hatezi jumped down from the MPTV-U, immediately recognizing the special operators that he had been seeking earlier that morning.
"Where the fuck have you been?"

The senior captain of the team responded,
"We had missions to carry out, Major.”

“I had those ‘Beatles’ that I was supposed to give you.”

The Hyenas all looked at each other in a momentary panic, considering the possibility that they might be saddled with compact Volkswagen cars.
“Did you mean the Spider FAVs?”

The Major squinted, not sure of the rank of the man he was addressing. Behind him, his staff decided to take another smoke break for the day.
"Yeah, those dune buggy looking things. Spiders. I almost took one for my command car when I didn't think you'd show, but there's no damn armor on them. Sweet MGs and AT launchers mounted on them, though. I left them back with the platoon that's staying."

"They're meant to be too fast to target, not heavily armored. You rarely can have both, unfortunately."

The Major nodded, calmed from his earlier irritation.
"You could all fit in one. Why do you need five?"

"We're delivering them to the other teams south of here."

"Ah. So, I suppose I can't count on you for the upcoming assault on the Chynelle garrison then."

"We will back you up, per orders. It won't take long to deliver the vehicles to the rendezvous. Our call sign will be 'Dereva', on the secure channel. We will stay linked up with 6th and 8th teams."

"I see. Clever. I am in command of this flanking attack. You realize that, don't you?"

"Major, all due respect, but as I said before, we have secondary missions to attend to, before your main assault. As well as afterwards. We will be there, though. I'm thinking you may need to check the data feed from LTF command, regarding our role in the upcoming assault on Chynelle. You must have missed it. If you run into trouble before then, call us."

Hatezi waved his hand in dismissal, before the Hyenas could walk off on him and embarrass him in front of his command.
"Fine. It shall be as it is. Maybe we'll see you there. Safari njema."

"Safari njema to you, Sir."

They parted ways and the command car and escort raced to catch up with the rest of the column that hadn't bothered to stop when hailed over the radio.

---

GYATA, MUBATA

Meanwhile, more ground units were being mobilized for the fight on the mainland, should they be needed. Light infantry companies, along with the Mstari Group of the Hyenas special operations forces, would be both choppered and transported in by air. The Hyenas would flush out any remaining Ossorian or Nava’ai resistance, in conjunction with the LIRCAS Sergeants and Mangusta gunships.

More tanks, IFVs, APCs and vehicles, mobile SAMs, SPAAGs, logistical and engineering vehicles were being readied to load onto both transport aircraft and the LCS ships and landing craft that were expected back from Yolenga soon, to make multiple voyages.

Last, but certainly not least -
Along with the vehicles and hardware, would come the follow up medical, logistical and military police support units that would take a primary role in the occupation/liberation of Yolenga Island.

The above statement was only partially true. There was another not quite final wave of personnel to ship out to the Island. Directorate 57 were the secret police and intelligence apparatus of the Fazembe regime. They took their name from the year they were formed, during Papa Hadi (Hadenka) Fazembe's original independence struggle and subsequent rule. The current director of D57 was the ruthless Jara Kefuma. Soon after the Liberation Task Force had set sail from Gyata, Kefuma had pulled several of his agents into a meeting, preparing them for their missions.

Ideally, Kefuma had wanted to put them on board the ships of the main task force, to disembark with the troops heading ashore. General Nkoro had flat out refused on the grounds it would cause poor morale for his men. He pleaded his case right up to Papa Lini himself. Fazembe relented towards the much admired General, even though he had originally given consent to Kefuma for the early insertion. It was a slight among several that Kefuma wouldn't soon let go.

The D57 agents headed out from the meeting in their headquarters with their boss. They would turn their skills towards those who would oppose the Mubatan takeover of Yolenga Island, both within and without. They would scour the townships for resistors in the Nalayan and Ossorian ethnic villages, and for traitors in the ethnic Mubatan ones.

A select few D57 agents were tasked with being ready to act upon the biggest suspected traitor of all, none other than the commander of the Liberation Task Force, General Etomo Nkoro, along with his staff. They climbed into their vehicles to head to the air base outside of Karalaga. From there it would be a short hop to the air base at Gyata via Mil-8 helicopters, a refuel, then the longer flight to the Island.

---

Upon dropping off their D57 agents and cargo and refueling at Jzokolo, the Mil-8 transport helicopters did not return to Gyata. Instead, responding to requisition from Colonel Ishmael Aganza, CO of the Hyenas, and signed off by General Nkoro, they flew on to an LZ to pick up teams of Hyena troopers of Doa Group, as well as hook up their Spider FAVs with cables. Several teams were thus transported over the central mountains of Yolenga, south of Chynelle, preparing to serve as a blocking force for any retreating Ossorian military retreating from the central garrison.

[Ossoria]

Royal Strategic Command Center
The Caisleán, Kenlis, Ossoria

High Queen Tara Silven entered the command room of the bunker located deep beneath the rock of the Caisleán. Most of her top military officers and political advisers were already present, assembled around the large table which dominated the room center of the room. The officers all wore headsets over one of their ears which connected them to their respective staffs while the civilians looked as stunned as Tara herself felt.

"What do we know so far," Tara asked them as she took her seat at the center of the table.

"Not much, your Majesty," answered Niall Cecil, the Lord Marshal of the Marine Corps. "Approximately ninety minutes ago we received a Case Marigold from our senior Marine officer, Major Talek Anwill, after receiving a tip-off from two locals: Rifi Hejima from Bivkawa and Kano, a young man from Rafinda. According to Major Anwill's report, Kano saw the Mubatans landing on the beaches at Rafinda then traveled to his compound at Chynelle to inform him. By that time, the Mubatans had already taken out both of the Navy's radar outposts and Major Anwill was preparing to consolidate his forces in Dunkitt. Upon receiving Kano's information, the Major has stated his intention to withdraw what he could of his forces at Chynelle into the mountains and persecute an irregular campaign against the Mubatan garrison forces. He does not believe that he can withdraw the forces in Dunkitt in time to meet up with his forces before the Mubatans arrive and has ordered them to surrender when they are no longer able to mount a credible or worthwhile resistance."

Tara nodded her understanding and tacit approval of the Major's plan before turning to the obvious person in the room to ask the obvious question: "Did our intelligence networks miss anything, Gwen?"

Lady Gwen Price, the Secretary for National Intelligence, grimaced at the question. "There has been some rhetoric which, in retrospect, clearly indicates that they were planning to do something with regards to Raithir, but none of us over at the Office thought that Fazembe would be militarily capable of doing much more than blowing air. He only recently finished fighting that civil war of his on top of last year's economic problems exacerbating what should have been a problematic period for his government. We should have seen it coming sooner, your Majesty, but we didn't and the responsibility is mine."

"I wouldn't necessarily agree with Lady Price's assumption of guilt, your Majesty," Lord Cahir Moran, the Grand Marshal of the Royal Armed Forces interjected. "Raithir has always been a quiet sector, even given the powder-keg that the ethnic mix on the island presents. Our military presence was intentionally light in an effort to avoid stepping on the locals' toes, but it would appear to be obvious that our presence was too light. It was as much a failure of military policy to deter Mubata from seriously considering this course of action as it was an intelligence failure to see it coming."

"I'm not interested in assigning blame for this on any of you at the present time," Tara said sharply. "If there is to be any blame assigned to anyone, it will be once we conclude an investigation to find out what failed and how to fix it so that we do not fail again. That will come, but for the time being I need all of you to stop trying to assign or assume responsibility for what is happening and focus on how to fix the situation we now find ourselves in. Now, I want options for how we can respond to this unwarranted and unprovoked attack on my Realm's sovereignty."

Kirstin Beirne, the First Naval Lord, predictably was the first to speak up, using the computer at her station to demonstrate her rough proposal on a bank of monitors centered over the table as she spoke. "Our naval forces in the area are light, and the nearest major base we have is JNS Ōwaka in the Hemar Confederacy, where we have an amphibious squadron and several corvette and submarine flotillas assigned to Task Force 41 under Lieutenant Admiral Marrec Barrett. What we currently need more than anything else is information, so I think our best option is to send Admiral Barrett towards the area with his light carrier and two corvette flotillas as escort, as well as a unit of submarines. It's thinner than I'd like, but we need that information if we are going to be able to formulate a solid plan for retaking the island and making it stick."

"Your Majesty, if I may raise an additional point?" Ráichéal Howe, the Colonel-in-Chief of Special Operations, asked. After a nod from Tara, she continued, "The Navy's been putting the Ceasair through her paces around Hemar. Why don't we embark a few platoons of Fianna and send them to the island to bolster Major Anwill's position?"

Tara nodded in agreement with Howe, then turned towards Beirne with an eyebrow cocked inquisitively. "Is that an option, Admiral?"

"We can't do that quite yet, your Majesty," she said with a grimace. "The last report I had of the Ceasair was that she is in drydock with her engine compartments opened up for post-trails repairs. Though that report is now several weeks old, I'm afraid that I don't know her exact readiness state at the moment. I'll inquire with the Fourth Naval Lord when I get a chance to discuss what we have avaliable for deployment to retake the island, but at the moment we're still receiving readiness reports from our station and task force commands and issuing directives to ready those not alreay at sea for deployment. The situation is simply too undeveloped for me to have received information concerning the status of a single testbed."

Tara nodded in understanding, "As always, I appreciate your candor in the matter, Kirstin, as well as the problems all of you are facing with this unexpected situation, however I agree with Ráichéal's idea and would appreciate you looking into it once-" Tara raised a hand to preempt the Admiral's comment "-you see to everything else that needs to be seen to. That takes priority over anything at the moment. Sending the Major a few Fianna will simply have to wait until we can start moving on getting a force together which we can use to reassert our sovereignty over the island, otherwise it will likely be just more corpses on the fire."

Tara paused shortly, waiting to see if anyone else would speak up before she pressed on, "We'll go with Kirstin's plan for now. At the very least it will give us a card to play in the area, but I want our people to start moving and thinking in terms of taking that island back. We'll break for...ten minutes before we reconvene to discuss how we handle the political side of things, both internationally and domestically. I want that task force moving as soon as is practicable, Admiral."

[Mubata]

OFF THE YOLENGAN COAST

After sinking the first RON fast attack craft off Caerne, the Viggens flew on and tore apart the last four fast attack craft assigned to Raithir Island, one other out on the Sea of Raithir, and the last three which were docked at Bergel, the most major naval station in use by the Ossorians. Bergel was in an inlet not far to the west of Epston, where a good chunk of the Liberation forces were in process of disembarking. The Ossorian naval craft splintered into thousands of pieces upon impact of the 30mm rounds from the Mubatan fighters’ Oerlikon KCA cannons. Two of them exploded as their fuel tanks ruptured.

Crane flight had a fresher pilot, Crane 3-5, who hadn’t flown missions during the recent years of the civil war, like many of the other veteran MAF pilots. He was itching to fire off some of his rockets at the second FAC off the coast, even though it would have been massive overkill, just to test his skills with them and experience the ‘Rush’. He held off at the last minute, admonished by his wingman and reminded that they were strictly told not to waste munitions in such a frivolous manner. As many munitions as possible were being stockpiled and saved for the coming bigger battle, if and when the Ossorians sent a reaction force to retake the island.

Within a few hours, the last remaining presence of the Royal Ossorian Navy was snuffed out at Yolenga, but for some probable support and off duty personnel onshore. Admiral Uzanda, onboard the flagship of the Liberation Task Force, MSR Fazembe, put search and rescue crews out to try to retrieve any survivors or bodies. No survivors were found, but some bodies and parts were recovered.

Mubatan forces continued to unload at Rafinda and Epston, as well as the special operations forces that were choppered in to the south. The first prongs of attack were finally closing in on Chynelle, and other movements were in motion to get enough troops in place for the simultaneous assault on Dunkitt, which held the other garrison, as well as the administrative center - The Governor’s Mansion - for the Island. While they could have seized the day and been in place in half the time, General Nkoro, already knowing the element of surprise was lost, decided he would rather have all his elements for the simultaneous attacks in place, relying on overwhelming force to win the day. Mi-8 Hips continued to traverse the Slebima Mountains, the chain that divided the island, ferrying additional troops of the 2nd Askari to bolster the 1st Mwanga closing in on their targets.

Major Hatezi kept his command, the 2nd Bn/1st Mwanga Regiment, in tight order as they reached the center of the island before the Slebimas. He first deployed scouts to either side of the pass that led to Chynelle. They confirmed that no ambush was waiting from up high, and remained on the high ground, deploying snipers and mortar teams, as well as MANPAD teams, even though the threat of Ossorian air attacks were most certainly non-existent at this point. The major then had the rest of the unit pass through the Chynelle Pass in staggered fashion. Even though military superiority was presumed, there was no need to risk troops and vehicles unnecessarily.

---

CHYNELLE

After reporting to Major Anwill, Rifi decided to take care of some business in Chynelle, tracking down various merchants he could consider business partners. Naturally, Kano had little choice but to tag along, not that he seemed to mind. Behind them, the garrison had gone into a flurry of activity as the Marines rushed about packing, piling up gear, loading weapons and shredding sensitive documents or shoving them into furnaces.
They tuned it all out and walked out of the complex, as it was no longer their issue to contend with.

The boy had never been to Chynelle. In fact, Epston was the only Ossorian town that his family had ever had need to travel to, and he was too young to remember that last visit. His eyes were wide as he tried to take it all in. Rifi found it rather amusing as Rafinda was larger than Chynelle, but obviously the size of the town was not the issue of rapture for the boy, but the cultural differences and the villagers themselves.

Between stops the young boy and old man chatted.
Rifi realized through these snippets that Kano was a quite self reliant when he needed to be and a lot brighter than he let on...sometimes. The boy let out a squawking fart and clapped and laughed at his proud self.

They stopped at the Raithir Office of Licences so that he could renew his hunter's permit to continue to 'harvest' the river creatures, even though the Ossorian document was likely to be worthless soon, and also he was often far in excess of the quotas set on the permit anyway. He didn't need anyone to tell him how to cull the area's woods and river dwelling denizens. He made sure that the game he took were always plentiful and having good breeding seasons, but that didn't matter to the paper pushers back in Kenlis and Dunkitt.

As they made their other stops, merchants told him of need for turtle shells, croc skins, monkey meat and pelts, both locally and for trade and shipping off the Island. He debated letting them know that might become suddenly very difficult.

The boy tried to solve the dilemma for him during the first instance,
"But..."
Rifi reached out and pinched Kano's arm hard. The boy had at least enough good sense to not cry out or speak further, instead rubbing at the pinched spot.

As they walked away, the boy inquired,
"Why did you do that?"
Rifi glanced around for those within earshot as they made their way down Main street.
"Well, it's not really our business to cause such a panic. It's up to the Marines whether to tell the people what's on the way. They'll know soon enough in a few hours. Additionally, we don't need word to spread about why we were here. Authority on this Island is going to change dramatically in a day. There will be those that wish to curry favor with the new lords with such information. Do you understand?"

"I...think...so."

"Let's just say it's bad for my business."

"Okay."

Rifi stopped cold.
There were definitely those who would be very interested in currying favor with the new authorities back in Bivkawa and parts East. Those who had helped them on their journey down the river today and calling ahead to the garrison were not among them, but he could easily picture one of his friends making a comment without thinking to the wrong set of ears.

"What's wrong? Why did you stop?"

Rifi shook his head.
"We need to get back now."

"Yes, I need to get back to my Bibi. She'll be worried."

Rifi shook his head again.
"No Kano, it might not be safe for you to go home yet."

They made it to the boat and started to motor back East.

The Gwalama River past Chynelle Pass

---

EASTERN YOLENGA

Meanwhile, Rifi's fears were indeed coming true. The darkly dressed men of Directorate 57 had already begun to arrive on the heels of the soldiers, ferried to the ethnic Mubatan villages by transport choppers and 'borrowed' vehicles, both civilian and military, along with select squads of military police that would do their bidding. The people knew exactly who they were and what the near future entailed. Tales of torture, dismemberment and impalement of suspected rebel supporters at the hands of these demons was widely known.

It didn't take long for neighbors to rat each other out in order not to be shipped off to a Mubatan prison or worse. One of those names bandied around in Bivkawa was Rifi's and the mystery boy that had left with him early that afternoon. One agent stood out from the rest as he directed his subordinate agents around from the town center. For many, he was easily the biggest man they had ever seen.

He towered over everyone and was easily close to seven feet tall. His skin was like obsidian and shadows. He wore a light linen suit looking quite comfortable and appropriate for the tropics. Where a tie would normally be worn, open lapels displayed a white sleeveless undershirt, overlaid with a gold chain bearing an odd pendant, a gold plated skull of a small monkey.

His head was shaved completely bald and occasionally he showed big white teeth as his mouth opened to bellow orders in a very deep, rolling voice reminiscent of a certain deceased American actor who had a lead role in 'The Green Mile' and parts in ‘Kung Fu Panda’ and ‘Armageddon’, for the few in the region that had any opportunity to view American cinema.

"Don't miss anyone willing to talk, Agent Sataga. We must help these wonderful lost Mubatan people to see that their best interests lie in helping us."
Not for nothing was this man known as ' The Facilitator'.

---

GWALAMA RIVER

About the exact moment that Mubatan forces to the West and center of the Island were just closing to engage the Ossorian defenders, Rifi and Kano were nearing the bend that would take them on to Bivkawa. They had passed a section of river bank where it was unnaturally, deathly quiet. No birds or monkeys chittering. He'd not thought much of it, on top of an already weird day. The boy had chatted intermittently, then dozed off, his head hung low to rest on his chest.

Rifi squinted as they came upon a familiar large, old tree that overhung the riverbank. He slowed the boat as a sinking feeling took over his gut. Sensing the changing, slowing pace of the motor, Kano raised his head. The breath left Rifi's mouth with an audible, melancholy sigh.

"What is it, Rifi?"
His gaze followed where Rifi's eyes were glued to. The bark in the center of the trunk of the old tree was peeled away to reveal the tan periderm part of the wood. Carved into the exposed part were clearly the numbers 5 and 7.
"What does that mean? Some kind of poacher's code?"

"Listen Kano, I'm going to..."

Picking up on Rifi's dread, the boy repeated more shrilly,
"What does it mean?!"

"Shhh. Calm yourself, boy. They are here. I'm going to drop you off here on riverbank."

"You'll tie up the boat?"

"I will be heading on in."

"Why? They'll hurt you, won't they? Just come with me."

"I need to deflect their attention. Listen and stop your damn interrupting. Get out of the boat and run as fast as you can...up into the mountains. Don’t go back to Rafinda. Ever. Make your way to the Holy Altar. No matter what happens down here, people will keep making offerings up there. You can get food and water there. I will try to find you or send someone for you."
He had his doubts on that, but he had to give the boy hope.

"B-but....but those are sacred offerings to the Earth Mother. I can't touch them."

"Ngchi Mama will understand. You must eat and survive. Now go!"

The boy was half out of the boat as they'd brushed up to the bank.
"But..."

"Go!"

Kano ran.

---

20 minutes later, Rifi slowly motored the boat towards his homestead berth. He tied up the boat to his usual beat up makeshift dock of stumps and scraggly wood and climbed out on the bank, hauling a bag out with him. They were there. He could feel their eyes on him.

A black man he'd never seen before stepped out from behind a tree a couple meters up from the bank and spoke in Tizi.
"Came up empty today, Mr. Rifi Hejima?"

Rifi dropped the bag and ran for the shed that held his croc hunting tools - various spears, machetes and nets. Soldiers with MP armbands popped out from their hiding spots to cut him off. Rather than shoot him down, the nearest goon caught up and tackled the spry old man. For good measure he punched him hard in the gut.

Rifi wheezed, still struggling, but a lot of the fight had been sapped from him. The soldier sat on him, tired of trying to hold him, and he felt as if he was going to suffocate.

The original agent was the only one not in a soldier’s uniform and presumably from D57. He walked up as the MPs were wrestling the wiry old poacher to the ground.
"You are only prolonging the inevitable, Mr. Hejima. Now...Where is the boy?"

---

EPSTON, DUNKITT AND CHYNELLE

The command party of the Task Force ground forces, led by General Nkoro, and with the Colonels, commanders of the 1st and 4th Mwanga Regiments in tow, were finally cleared to land at Epston, as it was declared secure. The General had pressed the troops on the issue and speed up his possible arrival, and they had finally relented to their commander.
The reception on shore was less than stellar for the Mubatan officers, and the soldiers hadn’t bothered to force the townsfolk to wave flags and show fake exuberance at the arrival of the commander of the Liberators, per General Nkoro himself’s orders.

While the Mubatans continued to have lukewarm receptions in most of the towns they entered, by comparison, the people of Jzokolo and Dzowaz were close to hysteria in their excitement at the liberation. Many of the people there were dedicated followers, and Fazembe fans, even though they had moved to the Island to escape some of the harsher economic policies and taxes. There was a disconnect somehow in their minds, as they might not realize that being under the thumb of the actual Fazembe regime meant that Yolenga could soon turn the way of the mainland in the downturn in the economy and mismanagement of resources. That was if they held the Island at all past a few weeks. Even more likely was that the Mubatan government would attempt to strip the Island of every resource possible, in the quickest amount of time possible.

Mubatan military photographers and crew worked hard to catch the reactions of the people in these towns, in order that they may edit them together with General Nkoro’s arrival in Epston, then Dunkitt. A victory parade would also be planned, but for sure they wanted to get the General to come through Dzowaz in order to film him being worshipped as the victor of Yolenga. Both for the International crowd, and back home in Mubata, most people weren’t fully aware that Mubatans were actually a small minority on the Island. Especially since the barrage of Mubatan propaganda recently about the Island and its rightful place as part of Mubata. The Fazembe propaganda machine was not interested in reversing the perception of an oppressed Mubatan majority on Yolenga.

One of the last waves to arrive on the Island via the constantly rotating transport choppers was a handful of men that were not all that dissimilar in skin color to the Rafindans or Kozulweans, a lighter cocoa, bronzy color, but the similarities stopped there. They wore Mubatan uniforms, but with no unit patches or rank. They carried gear, Type 300 SMGs and PV-38 assault rifles, so even if there had been anyone allowed within a mile near the LZ at Jzokolo besides Mubatan military personnel, they might still not have had much reaction to the men and women that were rushed on board three MPTV-Us heading in various directions around the Island.

LIRCAS Sergeants overflew the western side of the island, trying to provide up to date reconnaissance on the two garrisons and other events happening across the Island. As many of the Viggens were landing back at Gyata, but for one support flight, another wave of Sergeants were launching from Gyata armed with canons and rockets, prepared for the coming assaults on the last defenders of Ossorian controlled Raithir. While the LIRCAS aircraft made ideal recon platforms, the Schwyz Logiztek made planes had also been used to great effect as COIN aircraft in several other conflicts around the globe.

Snipers set up within a mile, on the outskirts of Dunkitt, on overwatch for their comrades. Mortar teams set up closer in. Some teams were armed with Type 25 RPGs and some lugged in ammo boxes, tripods and MA-340 Reil HMGs, ready to swing them in place to stop any counterattacks. The Mubatans blocked off the roads and encircled the administrative center of Yolenga. The M-20 Dobermann light tanks and a handful of Merkavas followed in staggered coverage to back up the advance light infantry. They moved in towards the city on three of the major roads, from the north and east.

A little earlier in time, as dusk was starting to settle across the Island, the Hyena special operations teams were in place in the jungle and forests south of Chynelle, while their regular counterparts crept in. While two men each manned the Spiders on the backroads, the rest of the teams spread out into the surrounding jungle, looking for trails and possible routes of retreat for the Ossorian Marine garrison.

The shadows became long in the valley, with the mountains sucking up the sun, long before those out on the coast would lose their daylight. The Mubatan forces had artillery and armor lined up near the roads, most of it with the section of the 1/1 Mwanga, that had traveled down from Epston, rather than the 2nd Battalion that had moved through the Chynelle Pass from their journey south from Rafinda. They got within sight of the structures of the edges of the town and prepared to take on the Ossorians. They had suspected, and then had it confirmed by aerial photos, that the Ossorians were not going to be surprised, as they saw through two of the photos downloaded from the Sergeant aircraft that the Marines were barely to be seen, and those few caught in the open were moving hardware with purpose, although to what purpose.

---

PRESIDENTIAL PALACE
KARALAGA, MUBATA

They sat in the same operations center of the Palace where the liberation of Yolenga had been planned. The lights burned bright, as dusk had already come and gone on the mainland before western Yolenga. General Dzolema stood at an easel that held a map of the Island, with an array of aerial photos, forces tables and other graphics on large foam board waiting to be switched out. His adjutant, a Major, stood by to assist with the briefing.

The main focus and receiver of the briefing was none other than Papa Lini himself, President Fazembe. At other seats around the table sat the Council of Ministers. Next to Fazembe sat Defense Minister Rozabu, keeping an eye on Dzolema and ready to interject whenever he thought any subject hadn’t been covered enough. They had gotten through a bit of the preliminaries of the events of the first day, besides some of the live feed that Papa Lini had watched avidly, with Dzolema describing the events, aside from General Nkoro reporting via radio and video link.

“...So, then the Directorate 57 agents and military police are dispersing among the towns. More support troops are on the way. Now it’s the Mubatan towns, and Epston. Tomorrow I believe they will be moving on to some of the Ossorian and Nava’ai tow-...”

“I want to go.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?...Go to the Island?”

“Yes, I need to see for myself.”

“That is not even safe. We are far from securing Yolenga at this point, Mr. President.”

“Not right now! In the middle of the night...Ujinga! Tomorrow...the next day.”

“I don’t even know if we’ll have things settled by next week.” The Defense Minister ventured.
Cold stares made him stammer,
“...Uh, w- well, obviously we’ll smash the organized military resistance, but...there is a good chance of resistance. Guerrillas. The Nalayans, or Nava'ai, are a feisty bunch known for their fierce independence. The Ossorians, as well, are a totally unknown factor as they haven’t been conquered in quite some time in the history of the region. We really don’t know how they will react under occupation.”

“Liberation.”

“Correction. Liberation.” Minister Rozabu paused, “Sir...Mr. President. I believe we can have you a victory parade in three days.”

General Dzolema whipped his head to lock on to the Minister. His eyes were wide at the dangerous acquiescence by his boss to allow the President to travel to Yolenga. The other Ministers also shook their heads or sat stony faced. None were going to echo that it was a grand idea.

The Minister blazed on, in spite of, or oblivious to the stares,
“Yes. Three days. Give General Nkoro 3 days to get things under control. We can have you marking through the main street of Dzowaz and…”

“Dunkitt.”

“I...Dunkitt? Mr. President, that is the heart of Ossie land. I don’t think that’s....”

“It’s the Imperial center of their occupation. I want to solidify the final humiliation of those white devils for all the world to see.”

“We can use the magic of film editing and computers these days, Sir. We can make it look like you’re in Dunkitt, when you’re actually being greeted by ecstatic crowds from Dzowaz and Jzokolo. We do have many people happy to be back under the Mubatan umbrella, so to speak…At least in those areas...”

“I will be in Dunkitt in three days. Not by the magic of cinematography. Make it happen.”

“No sir!”

The President and Ministers froze.

General Dzolema continued,
“I will not allow that to happen, at least not for two weeks. You can’t afford to lose drop me from my position now at this stage, and the country can’t afford to lose you, Mr. President. Just give us some time here, then you will really be able to savor the victory. I think General Nkoro will have it all sewn up tight by then and already be guiding the construction of the layered defenses. We will have time to make an unbelievable backdrop for the victory films.”

Fazembe put his hands out and up in a form of light surrender.
“You have convinced me, General. I will stick to your timetable, but I expect solid results. The white devils will not embarrass us. Right?”

“Correct, Sir...Mr. President.”

Lini stood up, his signal that he was done with the discussion, despite more data that Dzolema and Rozabu had hoped to pour over.
“Make it happen. I’ve had a long day, and I will have a long night. I want to take a short nap before the battles begin to wipe out the Ossorians.”
They would have monitors set up both in the President’s lounge area and here in the operations center, depending on where the Lini wandered.

“Yes, Mr. President!” They all chimed in unison.

[Ossoria]

Dunkitt

Captain Evette Hensey peered out into the growing twilight, looking for the enemy she expected to arrive hours ago. She and her Marines had managed to evacuate most of the civilians from the area around the Governor’s Mansion before they had erected some basic obstacles and fortifications on the main avenues of approach.

She had been surprised when forty people from the Navy outpost in the harbor had arrived to ‘reinforce’ her position, but as their commanding officer (a Lieutenant so new to his grade his rank insignea squeaked and so out of his depth she feared he was about to drown on dry land) had told her, with the destruction of their radar sites and all of their small craft, there was little they could do to help otherwise. Not about to turn away spare bodies, she had them help the Marines dig in and prepare for the attack.

Now that everything that could have been done had been done, all Captain Hensey and her motley band of defenders could do was wait for the inevitable...and wish that it would hurry up and end already.

---

As the last twinklings of purple, pink and orange started to fade on the horizion, one of the Spider FAVs of the 1st Mwanga sped in on the main thoroughfare into Dunkitt, with a driver and an officer in the front passenger seat. Two large white flags flew from the vehicle, flapping in the slight breeze, but more often staying limp in the dense humidity. The Mubatan officer carried a bullhorn and casually raised it to his lips,
“Do not shoot!”

“Do Not shoot! We come under a flag of truce! Don’t shoot!”

The Spider FAV, much like a dune buggy, with its mounted armament removed from the top roll bar, slowed up and started to creep up the road. The driver squinted, both to see in the dimming light and also in terror, expecting the sniper’s bullet that might end his life.

---

All of the defenders scrambled to take their positions at the approaching rumble of engines, preparing to engage. Only the bullhorn and the flags on the lead vehicle held the Marines, who occupied the foremost line of positions, in check as they waited for orders from Hensey.

In her command post inside the Mansion, Hensey keyed the town’s emergency public address system. “This is Captain Evette Hensey, Commanding Officer of the Dunkitt Detachment of the Royal Ossorian Marine Corps. You are illegally present in violation of Ossorian sovereignty over this island. Withdraw at once or suffer the consequences!”

---

The officer, a Captain, smiled. He was not surprised that their commander hid and spoke over the PA, but that it was a woman brought some mild surprise. He held the bullhorn up again, as he had rested it on his leg in awaiting a response from the Ossorians. He checked to make sure that he’d held the radio channel open that transmitted back to Headquarters for the 1st Mwanga Fusiliers so they could hear the responses of the enemy. Then he spoke,
“This is Captain Lavampa of the Mubatan Liberation Task Force. Let’s cut the bullshit, Captain Hensey! You no longer hold authority here. We are now in control. Threats are going to get you nowhere. I’d like to talk to you in person, if you would please come out here. I’m unarmed.”

---

“What’s the matter Captain? Is Mubata so weak that they don’t have the balls to stand in a fair fight? Gods! The fucking Gylians showed more spirit than your emasculated whoreson of a ‘president’! You either completely withdraw all of your forces or you will face the consequences!”

---

The Captain showed minor annoyance. When he heard the reference to the Gylians, he looked at his driver, a corporal in his company, and shrugged. He clicked the button again on the bullhorn,
“You have spirit, Captain! You are a feisty woman. I’m sure that we would have fun together. As a commander though, you do a disservice to your command. You are risking their lives unnecessarily. We have overwhelming force and you will all be slaughtered. I’m sure your men don’t want that.” He was talking more to them than he was the female Captain at this point,
“...Come out here now. You...Will...Speak...To me...in person. NOW! You Imperialists have seen your claim now expire over this land. It is time to give up and go home. We can do that without bloodshed. Come out. NOW!”

---

“It’s YOUR commanders who are risking YOUR lives unnecessarily. This is the last time I will tell you: You will withdraw at once or face the consequences.”

---

Captain Lavampa let go of the button to the channel back to the temporary HQ of Colonel Emzaka, commander of the 1st Mwanga Fusiliers. Immediately, the Colonel’s voice came over the line.
“You idiot!! I’ve been trying to transmit for a while. Stop dicking around with this girl. Those Imperialist blowhards won’t surrender! We tried the offer, as requested by General Nkoro. Now it’s time to finish this. Get out of there.”

“Sir, I think we can give it one more chance here. Just one more.”
The attackers were not all fired up to rush into a hail of lead and heavy ordnance, just as much as the defenders were likely not looking forward to having their fair share dumped on them.

The Colonel was persistent.
“You’re not hearing me, Captain. Get back here now. We’re wasting time and giving them more time to set up their defenses and zero in on us.”

“I am having trouble hearing you, Sir. You’re cutting out.” He threw the mic down between himself and the corporal. He held the bullhorn back up, having calmed, his voice came through the horn very tranquil, almost bored,
“Captain, Captain...My Captain...We have the upper hand. You know it, your men know it. You must know how this works. Not only are your men at risk, but all the civilians in Dunkitt from stray rounds. Let’s just end this peacefully. We will accept your surrender no later than 20 minutes from this mark…” He looked at his watch, “...at 17:12 local time.”
He motioned to the corporal, and the Spider turned around easily on a tight axis. He halted the driver momentarily before they headed back down the road away from the Ossorian defenses, seeing if they might get one last response. None seemed to be coming.

---

Captain Hensey passed the word to her troops to take the next fifteen minutes and give each one a five minute relief to get a drink, a bite to eat or anything else they felt they had to do. Five minutes before the Mubatan’s ultimatum had expired, everyone was again back on the line and the detachment's sole priestess gave a brief blessing and then every eye turned to watch and await the Mubatans’ return.

---

A full minute passed after his last announcement to Captain Hensey. Captain Lavampa finally waved the corporal to drive on out. The Spider slowly revved up, then raced down the road back north towards the Headquarters as the Captain hung on to hand grip on one of the frame posts. Having heard the last transmission, courtesy of the corporal who had retrieved the mic and clicked it back to send on the command net, Colonel Emzaka had the troops prepare for the attack. There would be no more negotiating and avoiding bloodshed. He’d given them the window that General Nkoro had asked for, and now that time would soon pass. The arrogant Ossorians had had their chance and it appeared they wouldn’t take the easy out. Now the Mubatan liberators would dislodge the main garrison of occupiers from Yolenga.

Mortar crews manning the 60 and 80 mm tubes, got their first rounds in hand. They were covered by marksmen in prone positions. Snipers were set further back, in trees and some of the most outlying warehouses, as well as low rises. Light artillery had been rolled up, small howitzers that would join in on the barrage on the defenders, but used sparingly in order to leave something of a town to surrender to the incoming Mubatan ‘Liberation’ authorities. The mortar crews popped their first rounds in the tubes at predetermined bracketed settings, as the time limit expired and they were given the signal over the command net.

The last piece fell into place as one of the LIRCAS Sergeants, those light, oddly shaped twin tailed prop flyers, buzzed in low over the town. With complete air superiority, the attackers would take advantage of it and scout out what they could. The Sergeant plane took a final pass, the cameras in its belly snapping on auto mode furiously. The pilot then turned back towards home, without dropping any ordnance on the defenders, as this particular plane was loaded to the gills with recon equipment only.

It was a platoon of Korongo company of the 1st Bn/1st Mwanga that moved first for the infantry, advancing and leapfrogging from cover down the western most point, close to the northern approach to the docks of Dunkitt. They would lead that flank in sealing off the seaward escape of any of the Marines.

---

The Marines bunkered down in their positions during the bombardment and tried to stay as much under cover as they could, but even then, over a dozen of the small garrison was swiftly wounded or killed before the battle had been joined. The Mansion, which concealed Captain Hensey’s command post, took a direct hit and two rooms on two floors of the building collapsed.

Over the din of falling mortar shells, one of the Marines stationed close by was heard to shout, vitriolically cursing the Mubatans’ cowardice, for if they had such overwhelming numbers and were so concerned with the civilians (most of whom had been evacuated and sent south) then what was the godsdamned idea of dropping HE shells everywhere? Despite herself, Hensey and several others in her CP laughed, but this ended abruptly once the shells ceased to fall.

“Where are they?” Hensey demanded over her encrypted tactical net.

---

A flight of LIRCAS Sergeants were called in, as they were slower moving and more precise at the urban targets than jet fighters. They began to strafe and rocket positions that were layered in front of and beyond the Governor’s mansion. As they passed, they swooped back up and banked out over the bay and peninsula after their attacks, awaiting their turn for another run.

Meanwhile, the other flank, the one furthest east, consisting of mech and armor moved over the bridged roads heading out towards Koyle, Llannon and Chynelle, some following the river, with infantry close in to the vehicles, providing protection from possible AT/anti-armor teams popping up from cover in the town. They, as well, were using leapfrogging tactics, providing overwatch to the next group moving further south over the bridges and in towards the town. Any time they received fire, they returned it in force. When they did take fire, they were marking any resistance to air controllers that would call in the air support or artillery.

The middle prong spread out and didn’t move in fully, linking with the two prongs on the far east and west to form a horseshoe shape to envelop the town.

---

The reports coming into Hensey’s CP started painting the picture. Clearly, the whoreson who was leading the attack was a stickler for the classics and was probably following the Mubatans’ version of The Book. A pincer movement directed against the obvious nerve center of Hensey’s resistance with infantry-backed armor. And just to spice things up, a flanking maneuver to cut off sea access...as if she had anything to seaward to retreat TO.

Hensey keyed her com again, “All forces activate your ‘presents’ and fall back to secondary positions.”

At the order, the Marines and sailors fell back, but not before they had armed the anti-tank and anti-personnel mines they had left behind scattered in the road and along the gutter respectively. A spotter waited for the enemy to approach each line of explosives before squeezing the charging handles in his hands.

---

As the pincers began to close, more Mubatan troops were funnelled into the built up areas in order to clear the buildings floor by floor. With manpower on their side, they could afford to keep the momentum up while throwing extra troops into building clearing.

Any possible defender heads that popped up were sighted and taken out by the Mubatan sniper teams. The combined teams of infantry and light armor continued to move in methodically and unknowingly closed in towards where their ‘presents’ lay.

---

“SNIPERS!”

As soon as the call went out, Hensey’s small handful of sharpshooters started scanning their mental lists of possible sniper hides for isolated flashes of light to mark a muzzle flash. Once found, they engaged the sniper in an effort to draw their fire from the riflemen below.

In one section of the abandoned perimeter, a team of two Marines and two sailors were cut off by the sweep teams when they broke into their building. They sent a veritable cascade of grenades down the stairwell, followed by a thunderous blast that shook the floor were on. Two of the four trained their weapons down the stairs, daring anyone to come up after the grenades.

The spotter kept watching for the Mubatans to reach the line of mines, trying to catch as many of them in the blasts as he could before running for it himself.

---

Spotters for the Mubatans watched for muzzle flashes from the Ossorian side, but not able to save two of their snipers to be felled from the counter fire. The Mubatans returned fire, and the circling LIRCAS planes were called in to rocket the pinpointed positions that reacted to Mubatan troop movements.

Captain Lavampa, having returned to the leadership position to lead his troops saw some of them dropping from the Ossie counter sharpshooting fire. He was done waiting and wasting men on these defenders. He had the Air Force controller with him call in the LIRCAS planes, but also had some of the light howitzers, from the attached company of 10th Bunduki Regiment, sight in on where the lastest flashes were being reported. He waited to see what the airborne strafing attacks effect would be before giving the signal for the artillery to cut in.

4th squad of 3rd Plt, Korongo company were clearing warehouses and other structures, trying to keep in touch by radio with the other squads so that they could keep an even sweep. Two of their men were halfway up the stairs when the Marine’s grenades came raining down. The soldiers were shredded, despite body armor and one tumbled back down, immediately killed by shrapnel that had severed his exposed carotid while the other lay on the stairs fatally bleeding out from blasts that had turned his legs and left arm into hamburger.
“Fall back! Fall back!”

The remaining members of the squad waited near the stairwell, ready to dive if more grenades bounced down. The Sergeant in charge pointed up, motiioning with his assault rifle. He counted down and they all started to fire rounds up into the ceiling, spreading out from the stairwell. Were it a concrete building, they wouldn’t have attempted such a thing as the ricochets would be lethal, but as the building was mostly wood and plaster, they had less qualms.

After emptying their magazines into the ceiling, They prepared to storm back up the stairs, reloading with fresh mags. PV-38s at the ready, they followed their comrades in the climb to rush up the stairs through the cordite smoke. Meanwhile, the squad Sergeant was calling in neighboring squads to back them up to clear the position, should this latest attempt go the way of the first. 5th squad had a flamethrower. He hoped it wouldn’t be needed, but in truth, they only had orders to keep damage to the Governor’s Mansion light, not so the surrounding buildings or their occupants.

---

General Nkoro, waiting at an advance command post now set up south of Epston, could only wait in anxious silence, as he put faith in his subordinate regimental, battalion and company commanders to move in and perform their duties. He hadn’t thought to put together an advanced plan to take the two garrisons as they hadn’t even expected this much resistance to begin with, so he had left the details of the assaults up to the regimental and battalion commanders. As reports flooded in during the first few minutes, he regretted not having a heavier hand in the initial assault planning. He did what he could to make sure that air support kept coming from Gyata and Jzokolo, as he switched back and forth from the battles at Dunkitt and the troops closing in on Chynelle.

---

Two-thirds of Hensey’s sharpshooters had been killed or wounded after the airstrike and she cursed whatever OMA bureaucrat who decided that the island was too quiet to justify a military airfield to a thousand and fifty-seven deaths, each more excruciating than the last.

Two of the small party had been killed outright by the Mubatan fusilade through the floor, and both of the survivors had been wounded. Of the two who remained, the sailor was lightly wounded, while the Marine sergeant who had led the team was not long to remain. As the Mubatans charged, the sailor fired his automatic shotgun until he ran out, at which point he was promptly gunned down by the remaining soldiers. The sergeant watched him go down and reached into his pocket and pulled out the detonator to the satchel charge he had been issued to destroy his final position.

“Kind Mother,” he said, between coughs of blood, “take us into your hand...” and with the last of his strength, he squeezed the clacker.

---

WHARF DISTRICT OF DUNKITT

The first two Mubatans to storm up the stairs suffered the full brunt of the shotgun blasts. One going down with eventually fatal wounds cutting into his crotch and thighs. He writhed on the floor, blood flowing from the hands that clutched below his hips. His howls almost overrode the din of the gunfire. The next man had his ankle torn by one of the blasts and he also went down, flinging his rifle up one handed to sloppily spray the area in blind panic and pain.

The third and fourth men up had more focused bursts cutting into the wounded sailor to finish the job. The lead corporal started to swivel towards the Ossorian Marine, as the enemy NCO raised up the satchel clacker. The Mubatan soldier’s eyes went wide, understanding what was about to happen, as his mouth opened to yell out a warning and his finger began to squeeze the trigger at the same moment as the satchel charges detonated.

The squad sergeant was bounding up the stairs behind the rest of his squad when the explosives ripped the upstairs and funnelled back down. Originally on his fleet, he was sailing backwards with chunks of his men plastering his front and wood and metal shrapnel scything into him.

As 5th squad rushed in through the door, the 4th squad Sergeant skidded backwards from his trajectory down the stairs to end up at their feet, the last survivor of his squad. He looked up at his fellow NCO leading in the next squad and uttered,
“Yeah, don’t bother. We got ‘em.”
Then his eyes shuttered in his blackened, singed face; he drooped his head and went into what would be an unrecoverable coma.

Meanwhile, on the Mubatan eastern flank, the Honey Badger IFVs and Dobermann light tanks, clear of maneuvering around the trees, began to wind around the buildings. One of each, a M20 Dobermann and an IFV, rose up from the force of blasts as they ran over mines, the Honey Badger actually flipping to its side, crushing one of the escorting troopers. Soldiers huddling in too close to use the armored vehicles for cover learned fatal lessons as they were vaporized or shredded to various degrees by the blasts. Others were blasted as the anti-personnel munitions and mines popped off. One whole squad lay sprawled out on a patch of bare ground, with very little outward damage visible on their limbs or torsos, but trickles of blood coming from their noses, eyes and ears. They had been killed by the blast pressure of a multitude of nearby detonations, their organs pulped on the inside by the shock waves.

Another Honey Badger was disabled by a mine and the remaining armor of the eastern flank slowed in fear of hitting more of the deadly mines.
The toll on the 1/1 Mwanga and rose to almost two dozen killed and about equal that number wounded within just the first few minutes of the assault on the Island capital.

They continued to fire back, those that survived, with the canons of the follow on Mubatan armor firing at anything moving ahead of them. Men let loose with fusillades of Type 25 RPGs at the pits and dug in positions, some of them falling immediately afterwards from return fire. Others rushed in to take their place, some charging recklessly with their PV-38s and squad support weapons on full auto.

---

Hensey took a deep breath after she heard the staccato explosions of the mines going off. They were nearing the endgame, and it was time to start wrapping things up.

“All fireteams set your charges and fall back to the Citadel. I say again: set your charges and fall back. Once you reach your positions, set them off manually once the enemy reaches them and hold your positions until otherwise ordered.”

She then turned to one of her ‘reserve’ Marines. “Rig the place to blow, I don’t want those pigs to get their hands on the Mansion.”

The Captain then turned, picked up her rifle and went for her own defensive position. It was time to end this.

---

As General Nkoro watched on a monitor set up at his HQ, he wished they had started the attacks earlier in the afternoon, before nightfall. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped now. Colonel Emzaka, the CO of the 1st Mwanga stood by, as well as Colonel Relonga, the commander of the 2nd Askari Regiment, whose troops were backing up the 1st Mwanga and just joining the battle now, not that they would barely be needed.

The 2nd Askari were taking over building clearing duties as the 1st Regiment moved up to press the assault on the Mansion. The Eastern flank had moved on to encircle Dunkitt after their set back with the mines and IEDs. Colonel Emzaka, in frustration, ordered the rest to doubletime on in haste, not always waiting for the EOD teams from the combat engineers attached from the 3rd Bn/16th Msaidizi to catch up.
When possible they were put forward under heavy cover to probe for more mines and IEDs and disarm them, but for the most part in many blocks of the town, the combat engineers had come under too heavy fire and refused to work until more of the defenders were cleared out.
Hence, more infantry casualties were felled by subsequent mines, although no more vehicles were lost or damaged.

They were reinforced as the Mil-8 transport choppers took advantage of two clear fields at the southern end of Dunkitt, escorted by two Mangusta gunships that put down covering fire. They deposited more troops from the 2nd Askari, as well as new Hyena spec ops arrivals from the Mstari Group. They took some fire from the besieged Ossorians and returned in kind. Again, as they moved in haste to spread out and close the circle, casualties were lost. It was debatable whether they could have been avoided though, no matter how slow and methodical they advanced.

Snipers continued to take shots when they could at the Marines falling back from outside positions or that showed a brief target in windows, but the fading light was making that more difficult. Night vision goggles were a commodity in short supply, and so only a few of the lead attacking squads were issued them.

The forward air controllers called in the LIRCAS Sergeant support flights again, who were now able to operate from the air strip near Jzokolo instead of all the way back at Gyata, with the strip fully functional. As most of the vehicles had moved forward for the attack, one of the roads, the one up to Bergel, was being converted into another temporary strip, and fuel trucks and maintenance crews were moving into place. It had been deemed the best condition long strip of concrete, after some quick patching was done. The small planes didn’t need a lot of length to get airborne. Once that makeshift strip was functional, the Sergeant planes would have maximum time over their targets.

Smoke was dropped to mark the furthest points forward of friendly positions, and the ground support aircraft went to work. General Nkoro had given the pilots specific instructions via the Air Force liaison with him. The Governor’s Mansion was not to be rocketed, but if some strafing was absolutely necessary, that was allowable. President Fazembe wanted the Mansion intact for propaganda purposes, and the General had promised him that he would capture it intact. The debate still raged in Karalaga over the course of this momentous first day whether the President would be allowed by his advisers and military staff to even travel to Yolenga, even in the next couple weeks when it was assumed the security situation would have stabilized. However, the other structures being used as bunkers, fortifications and outposts were open game, as far as the command staff was concerned.

---

The Marines waited for the Mubatans to reach their abandoned positions before setting off the last of their satchel charges. Their strongpoints were about half a block from the Governor’s Mansion and they fought desperately to hold the Mubatans back. Casualties were mounting at a staggering rate given the Mubatans’ uncontested command of the air, and Hensey cursed the pencil-pushers back home for dropping her in the crapper on this one.

The Marines’ ammunition was running critically low by the time she was informed that the Mansion had both been set to blow and evacuated.

Finally, she thought, before she shouted a response into her radio headset. “Blast the bastard!” A second later the world behind her seemed to completely shatter as the last of the garrison’s explosives, plus a fair bit of added accelerant, turned the Mansion into a collapsed ruin in the heart of an inferno.

Hensey shook her head to clear it and pulled out a pillowcase and picked up a handy bit of pipe and quickly fashioned a rudimentary flag. “All forces cease firing,” she ordered over her radio as she held the poor excuse for a flag out from her position and waved it around, trying to catch someone’s attention.

[Mubata]

As the Mubatans closed in, there was a shocking pause as the Governor’s Mansion rumbled and thundered, explosions blasting out windows, quickly followed by more implosions and the roof pancaking in to the upper floors and so on as the structure came down.

Dust, along with chunks of debris, funnelled out at some of the advancing soldiers who had been minutes and meters from entering the seat of power for the Island. A close call indeed.

The pause was a few beats longer, then, as the realization that the building they had been tasked to capture had been torn from their grasp and the failure of that main directive settled in. Then, a renewed, possibly more intense round of firing picked up from the Liberator’s ranks.

The first Mubatan officer to see the pale, dirty flags go up was tempted to ignore it, but carried through on his duty. He got on the command net and radioed in.
“We have flags of surrender. They’re giving in!”

Colonel Emzaka’s voice broke in,
“Then stop firing, you jackasses! Ceasefire!”

The call went out from the officers and NCOs.
“CEASEFIRE!! CEASEFIRE!!”

There was about another minute of spattering volleyed fire as both sides took a bit to catch up that the fight was really over and hear the shouts over the din and register them. Then, finally, silence hung over the town along with thick smoke and dust and the strong smell of gunpowder, sweat, coppery blood, urine and the other foul smells that accompanied such fierce action.

The victors went forward to secure their new wards. Many of the advance front line had tears in their fatigues from shrapnel that either got too close or nicked them. Some had gauze, wrappings and bindings over hands, heads and other exposed parts. Less than half of the Mubatans looked fresh enough that they might not have been touched by the bloody battle. These were the follow on troops that hadn’t been sweeping out the buildings near the wharf district or northern outskirts, sniping from a distance or covering their braver comrades.

They put mini cordons around the Ossorian manned positions, waiting for them to come out with their hands on their heads, rather than having to dig them out. Other troopers waited with plastic zip tie cuffs for the Marines to walk through gauntlets of angry Mubatans. Despite a tendency to want to throw punches or swing rifle butts, the troops were for the most part respectful of their recently former foes. Even a few nods of respect were visible from the mix of greenies and civil war veterans. From there, the Ossorians were dragged to trucks and other commandeered vehicles for a short trip away from the town center.

Captain Lavampa scanned rank tabs of Marines as he bounced from one captured position to another, looking for the female Ossorian Captain he had parleyed with before the attack had commenced.
“Where is your leader? Where is Captain Hensey? Any of you know the whereabouts of Captain Hensey?”

Already, an evacuated school building on the north side of town had been set aside to sort and organize the Ossorian Marines. Officers and top NCOs would be separated from the lower ranks, but for now, in the short term, they would all be gathered into the school’s gymnasium. Accompanying photographers took photos of the defeated Marines and sailors, for later release in press statements by the Mubatan government.

---

Ossorian Marines are taken into custody near the site of what was the Governor's Mansion.

Before leaving their positions, the Ossorians smashed any electronics they had and left their weapons behind before giving themselves up to the Mubatans. Of the 72 Marines and 40 Sailors who had initially made up the garrison, a mere 39 Marines and 12 Sailors survived the engagement.

Once they had been transported to the school which would serve as their holding area for now, one of the NCOs alerted Captain Hensey, who was immersed in her own thoughts, that someone was looking for her. She stood awkwardly, with her left arm in a sling and a bloody bandage due to a bullet having driven clear through it when she stuck it out to indicate the surrender.

She regarded the Mubatan officer for a moment with an impassivity born of contempt, less directed at the officer directly than at what he represented, as the entire invasion was an affront to the Ossorian sense of honor and propriety.

“I am Captain Evette Hensey, Royal Ossorian Marine Corps, with whom am I speaking?”

---

As the Ossorian survivors were filed into the school, Captain Lavampa had managed to make his way there after leaving his XO in charge of his company on mop up duties. Severe casualties had been suffered on both sides.

Once there, it didn’t take him long to pick his ‘prey’ out from among the other female Ossorian Marines, not that he had many to work through with the paltry amount left. In fact, she had found him, bravely putting herself before him.
“Ah, you don’t recognize me, Captain? We spoke via radio and bullhorns. I am Captain Lavampa.”

---

Hensey’s eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened as he identified himself as one of the last people she wanted to see at the moment.

“And what do you need of me, Captain?” she said in a flat voice.

---

“Listen, Captain, there’s no need to take that tone with me. I understand what you must be going through right now...I...Let’s start over...I fully respect and honor that you did your duty and that you did it well out there. You held your command together as long as possible. You were up against overwhelming odds and I could imagine the bitterness you must feel right now.
The reason I have sought you out, besides wanting to tell you that, is that General Nkoro wishes to meet with you personally back at his headquarters. We must move quickly as...there are elements that have less than honorable intentions towards you and your higher ranking officers and NCOs and they are more than likely on their way here.”
He was referring to D57, but he didn’t have the time to explain all that or want to add stress to her on top of everything she’d been through this day.

---

Captain Hensey arched an eyebrow at the Mubatan’s oblique reference. Though to what exactly he was referring to, she had no idea. But even though she wanted little more than to spit in his face and refuse his ‘invitation’, her duty to see to it that her already mauled command didn’t suffer further damage won out. Also captains who refused ‘invitations’ from such exalted personages as generals tended to have very short and uninspiring careers.

Instead she sighed and turned to look at her troops before picking out one of her few surviving officers. “Lieutenant O'Kerry,” she shouted across the room, “you’re in charge until I get back. It would seem that the general in charge of this clusterfuck wishes to have a word with me.”

She turned back to the Mubatan and squared her shoulders inasmuch as her injury allowed. “Lead on.”

---

Lavampa smiled.
“‘Clusterfuck’. One of those Northerner expressions I really enjoy. Are you feeling any pain right now? I can have the medics attend to you some more before we leave?”
He didn’t feel the need to remind her that he could have just had her dragged out of the gym and thrown on a truck, bound up. He knew that would not have gone very well and also that she deserved more respect than that, being a fellow soldier.

---

“Any more morphine and I’d hardly be in any condition for this general of yours to have a rational discussion with,” she said without a trace of humor. “The bandage could probably use replacing, though.”

She decided against hammering the Mubatan too much over the head with how much she hated them right this moment by expanding her definition of ‘clusterfuck’, instead just following her captor to wherever it was that the general wanted to speak to her.

---

A column of Ossorian Marines from the Dunkitt garrison are marched into captivity.

Lavampa nodded.
“We will have a medic join us on the journey. First, he will change your wound dressing.” He looked over to the Sergeant at his side,
“Make it so. Get us a medic. Now!”

Captain Lavampa continued on to guide her gently out towards the lobby, the front doors and out towards the MPTV-U that awaited them outside. A Mubatan soldier manned a MA-340 Reil HMG on a turret mount on the top of the armored vehicle. They helped her into the vehicle where the medic joined her after a couple minutes. He tended to the gunshot wound on her arm, providing fresh dressing and checking her sling for the ride north. Lavampa was not interested in waiting any longer and seemed to be anxious. He pounded on the driver’s cab of the vehicle.
“Let’s Go! go! go!”

They were on their way. Within about five minutes of boarding the vehicles, the convoy rumbled to a halt. Captain Lavampa raised up through one of the cupolas of the MPTV-U to see what the issue was.

A Spider FAV straddled the road, but only two of the occupants wore Mubatan fatigues, while the other two were in civilian garb. One of the men in the suits got out and started to walk towards the convoy. Lavampa cursed. He ducked his head back in,
“Everyone sit tight. Stay in the vehicle.”
He climbed out to meet their visitor.
“What is the meaning of this? You are interfering with urgent Liberation Task Force business. I need you to move your vehicle out of the way.”

The man in the suit spoke,
“Let’s cut through the bullshit, Captain. We want the Ossie Captain. She’s going to come with us. We’ll come back later for the other officers, but for now, we’ll take her…”

“I don’t think so. She’s under our protection and we have orders to deliver her to General Nkoro. Who are you again?”
He had a good idea of who he was addressing, but wanted to hear it from him. They hated identifying themselves.

“You know who I am.” He paused, exasperated. “You’re really going to drag this out? Sataga, from Directorate 57. The Facilitator would like to see her, and you know our orders come from higher up...Higher than the General. Get her out here. Now.”

The Captain was in over his head. He had superior firepower over the two agents and their MP thugs, but getting into a shootout with their own people would be very bad. The General had said this might happen, but not specifically said what he should do in this situation.
“I must protest. This is very improper. We are guaranteeing the safety of our prisoners under WA conventions. The Ossorians are military prisoners of war.”

“Your protest is noted. However, you have a duty to your nation to let us gain as much information from the prisoners as possible, seeing as we act as the intelligence arm for all Mubatan forces. You are confused right now, but I think your duty is clear. All you have to do is stand aside...We won’t hurt her.” The agent considered adding ‘too much’, but knew that would set the Army Captain off and belabor this situation longer.

Lavampa stammered.
“I...I must protest.”
He stood in the way as the two MPs moved forward to open the back hatch to the vehicle. Sataga pushed him aside forcefully.
“Stop clowning now. I said we noted your protest. Get the fuck out of the way.”

They pulled Captain Hensey out of the vehicle, the other agent and one of the MPs, as the other MP kept trying to deflect Captain Lavampa and he kept slapping the cop thug’s hands away. Neither were being very forceful, and it would have been a comical fight in any other setting than this.
Lavampa grabbed Hensey’s arm and looked her in the eyes.
“I’m very sorry, Captain. God bless...”

Sataga had had enough and knocked Lavampa’s hands away, then shoved the Captain to the ground. Suddenly, Lavampa’s men had their assault rifles cocked and pointed at the MPs and D57 agents.

Sataga put his hands up in the air, palms up.
“Ha! Shoot me. Then what? You think they won’t catch up with you all and impale you? Do it! Shoot us all down. Try it!” He stood defiantly, lowering his hands.
“No? I didn’t think so. Call off your dogs, Captain Lavampa. You lose this one.”

Lavampa, still sitting in the dirt, waved his hand in dismissal and his men reluctantly lowered their weapons. The thugs dragged the struggling Hensey over to their vehicle.
He called out after her,
“Stay strong, Captain. We will come get you. Stay strong.”

---

Hensey listened to the exchange with increasing trepidation. Obviously something was going seriously against her captor’s plans, but she didn’t know exactly what - until her captor’s protest...and the cavalier manner with which the new voice brushed it aside.

A quick glance at the handful of Mubatans in the compartment with her was more than enough to set her on edge, and the way in which the newcomers forced their way into the vehicle and removed her from it, and with so little regard for her injury, cemented the impression. She looked daggers at the Mubatan soldiers, silently cursing them as she was dragged away by the thugs who had come to take her to gods-knew-where.

They’ll probably torture me, she thought fatalistically, after that, I honestly don’t want to think what they’ll end up doing…

She shot another scathing look at the soldiers before being led away.

Shit.

[Shalum]

Heaven’s Gate Combined Operations Base
Gyata, Mubata
One Week Before Invasion of Yolenga

It had been several months since the Imperial Shalumite Armed forces had set up shop on the coast of Mubata, and since that time, great strides had been made. The Imperial Army Korp of Engineering had been deployed to do the heavy lifting, along with a regiment sized group of infantry and armored forces to ensure the safety of the builders-- many of whom were civilian contractors.

Given the ‘general instability’ of this part of the southern continent, High Kommand was apparently not keen on taking any chances. Perimeter security was tight, checkpoints and cameras placed strategically, and if all else failed, the base did have some armored vehicles on hand to repel any attacks that may occured. The actual moods of the guard ranged somewhere between ‘bored to tears’ and ‘too hot at the moment to care’, but they did their part in looking tough, bedecked in their gear and packing serious heat.

On base at the moment, any number of buildings were being constructed, some with more priority than others. Barracks and other staff support buildings were first on the list to get done, apparently, with the idea being that the sooner they were done, the quicker the base could hold more construction and army personnel to speed up the rest of the building process. They did have a little bit of everything to work on, after all. A seaside area for boats, landing strips capable of fielding the largest planes in the Shalumite arsenal along with the needed hangers to accommodate them, as well as an expansive compound to hold army personnel that would one day be deployed there en mass.

At the center of the base was the command center, while was a series of prefabricated buildings and tent-works, at the moment. The area where the Combat Information Center would be permanently located was under construction as well, seventy-five percent or so done, just waiting on the proper electronics and electrical systems, which would be somewhat expansive. If the base in Nalaya were to be compromised, this would switch over to the primary southern command point for the Imperial Armed Forces.

The current head of the Shalumite adviser force in Mubata was Joshua Thomas, a man in his mid-forties with olive skin and salt-and-pepper hair. He was strongly built, obviously a solider, given the way he carried himself and instructed the Mubatan soldiers when he was on the job. Granted, anymore, he mostly focused on working with their officers, while his subordinates handled the lower ranking people.

And today, he was on the job, waiting in the central tent for some of his Mubatan counterparts to arrive. He did not know why, but they had called for a meeting with him. While he waited for them to show and up and be shown in by the guards outside the tent entrance, he quietly hummed and filed through some paperwork. In the background, the Imperial Military’s radio station was playing, talking about another day of combat in Nalaya.

The convoy traveled down the freeway, 3 Mercedes limousines escorted by MPTV-Us armed with mounted rockets and MGs. Only one of the limos actually contained the entire party, the other two were decoys. Mubatan flags flew from all of them. The men inside the last limo sat in silence, having said everything they needed in a pre-briefing back in Karalaga earlier that morning.
They arrived at the gates of the Shalumite complex, showing their credentials to the guards at the gatehouse.

The main gate of the base had been placed rather strategically. The area leading up to it was flat for over a thousand meters, meaning that the guards would get plenty of warning in advance before oncoming vehicles ever arrived, much less tripped the sensors placed along the road.

At the moment, there was a squad of ten guards manning the main gate, checking both those who came in, and left. There was a machine gun emplacement sat up, which was backed up by a RG-35 MRAP, whose remote controlled weapons system was manned by a guard who was half-asleep. In the main crew compartment, two soldiers on break were actually shuffling cards, sipping on a dark drink that was ‘technically’ coffee according to their MRE packets.

The guard that challenged the limos held up a single hand, walking forward to the driver’s side window. He already was expecting them, but there was a matter of formality that had to be handled first. “Afternoon gentlemen,” he greeted with a small nod and tired smile. He didn’t look old enough to drink, much less hold a high powered assault rifle like he did now, but the trooper was here nonetheless. “All your paperwork looks good, you’re clear to go. Follow the main road, take a left, then a right, and then go straight for about a hundred meters. Just feel free to park where you want next to the command tent, you’ll be out of the way of the other vehicles. Brigadier Thomas is waiting on you,” he explained. Then he stepped back, to wave the limos on.

The convoy headed in, following the directions of the guard. Some of the drivers were familiar with the way to the command tent, having escorted General Dzolema here before during previous consulting sessions with Brigadier Thomas. The protection was necessary, at least off the Shalumite base, even so close to urban Mubatan centers, as there was still unrest from the people, as well as risk from attack by MFM rebels, even though that threat had greatly diminished after the victory a few months back.
They arrived at their destination and lower officers opened the doors to the limo that contained General Dzolema, the Defense Minister, Anbar Rozabu, and their aides. They walked towards the tent together, as one collected party. They stopped short at the door of the tent.

The guard at the tent door was a taller, Nordic looking woman, with blonde hair that came down to her chin. Sweat droplets were spread out along her forehead, her icy blue eyes hidden behind the sunglasses she wore. Reaching up, she quickly wiped the salty liquid away, before reaching over to open the door for the Mubatan soldiers. “Head on inside, gentlemen, have a nice visit,” she smiled at them for a moment, mostly out of courtesy.

Inside, the Brigadier General stood straight as he watched the Mubatans be ushered in. Compared to outside, it was certainly nicer, as cooler, air conditioned air wafted around them. Not every building would be this nicely conditioned, of course. That would be both expensive, and hard on the environment, but being a commanding officer did get some privileges. “Ah, good afternoon. It is a pleasure to see you again, General Dzolema,” he greeted the Defense Minister first with a salute, then a handshake.

Both the Defense Minister and the Mubatan Commander in Chief returned greetings and salutes. Their aides stood to the side.
“Brigadier Thomas, it is good to see you again. I would like to introduce you to Minister Rozabu.”

The Minister nodded,
“Brigadier, I am sorry I have not been able to make it out to visit sooner. The campaign against the rebels, you understand. This is a long overdue visit, but by no means a routine visit. We do have some business to discuss with you.”

Thomas made a point of greeting them all with the same cheerfulness, shaking hands and giving salutes. “A pleasure to meet you all, or see you again, in some instances,” he replied as he dropped his hand finally. He had the urge to learn against the desk centered in the command center, but that would be bad posture, years of training reminded him. “It is of no worry, I assure you, I’ve been busy myself. So much to do, never enough time,” he assented. “How can I help you today, gentleman?”

Off to the side, one of the Shalumite soldiers, a young redhead added after a moment. “Can I get you anything, by the way? Water, tea, coffee, soda?”


“Ah yes, feel free to let her know if you need anything,” he smiled at his female assistant. “And my apologies, I’ve been on my feet all day, haven’t even thought twice about it. Feel free to take a seat,” he said as he motioned to the main table in the center of the tent.

“I would like a coffee, please.” Minister Rozabu said.

“Tea, please.” The General said. The accompanying government and Army aides also put in drink orders. Then the party moved to the center table and pulled out chairs. The Defense Minister put a briefcase on the table.
“I have to say, it is...refreshing to see the women in your service. We do not currently have such a policy in place, but I’m working to change that. We have some in the Army, but not in any combat roles.” He was referring to the female soldier that had greeted them at the door of the tent.

General Dzolema nodded. He wasn’t as fired up to let women into combat roles, but if forced to, there wasn’t much he could do about it. He saw no harm in letting them take over more support roles in all the armed forces, however.

As the young aide plodded off to fetch the drinks, wearing a bright smile all the while, Brigadier Thomas stuck with them, walking over to the table and taking a seat of his own. The chair made an ugly sound as it scraped against the metal floor beneath them, which had been installed in favor of just letting the grass turn to dirt underfoot. Best to not let any of the communications equipment get dirty, was the idea.

“Yes, some nations have been more quick to adopt women in combat roles than others have,” Thomas replied with a small nod as he got settled in. Reaching over, he quickly cleared the table of the few files that he had left on it beforehand, before he went on talking. “In my personal opinion, it is a good decision to allow them to serve. Bolsters your overall manpower capabilities, brings the nation overall closer together, things like that. Of course, it is also a matter of culture,” he explained as he glanced at Dzolema.

“In my experience, women are some of the best fighters, even. They can be quite ferocious, regardless of their size. For our part, Shalum allowed women to serve in combat roles as early as 1945, during the final stages of the northern war between Shalum and Acrea,” he explained. Back then, they had needed the manpower to keep the military going, and no one had ever tried to undo the emergency measures to allow it since. If anything, it was well protected, given equality these days.

The Mubatan Defense Minister followed with complete understanding,
“Excellent, Brigadier. As always, Shalum is a shining example for the rest of us. Before we dive into business...We are glad you are here. I have talked to your leaders, over the phone, but I will tell you...We are very grateful to your nation and military for all you have done for us...So, do you find the accommodations adequate? Can we do anything else to aid you in your preparations and needs?”

Looking over at the Minister, the Shalumite Brigadier gave the man a small smile and a nod. In the distance, there was some quiet rustling as the redheaded staff member got their drinks ready, and placed them all on a tray for convenience. “And we are very grateful for the opportunity you have provided us here, truly,” he said in reply. “They have been very much adequate, yes, I don’t think we could have asked for a better location to set up everything,” he chuckled a bit.

“When it comes to the base itself, everything is going well, plenty of construction going on as I am sure you can see. We should be designed as operational within a couple of months, really it depends how fast those contractors get the barracks and command center established,” he explained. “Really, all we need is time, but if you wish, we can always use more hands for various construction projects. It’s paying work, of course. The faster we can get everything set up, the sooner we can get more people down here, that kind of thing,” he explained.

The Minister and General exchanged glances. Rozabu then looked over the aides, both his and his subordinate, the military commander. They wouldn’t be here if they weren’t vetted, trusted men...and one woman. He had debated sending them off for a few minutes, but reassured himself that they were all in good company.

“If you would like, yes, we could try to find you more workers. You are also welcome to put out ads and hire directly on your own from the local people. Employment for our people is very desired and anything to infuse the economy with much needed investment is welcomed.” Already, the Shalumite presence was having a beneficial effect on the local, Western Mubatan economy as they needed more goods, resources and local food stuffs.
”However...we must caution you. You would be wise to do background checks, not only to weed out those with anti-government, possibly pro-Marxist rebel leanings, as you are aware, but also…” He looked around conspiratorially once more, despite his earlier confidence.
“To be on guard for plants from Directorate 57. Kufema is very anxious, from rumblings I hear, to get eyes in here. While we are technically on the same government side, and should work together as government agencies...I must be honest that Kufema and D57, while trusted by President Fazembe, have agendas and goals that might not ultimately be for the better good of the nation.”

The General cut through the Minister’s semantics,
“Let’s be blunt. Kufema is ruthless and not to be trusted. He may even try to openly get agents on your base. Don’t let them. If, no, when that happens, you are welcome to call me and I will deal with it...him.”

By now, the staffer had returned with all of their drinks, and she went about passing them out, one by one to whom they were owed to. Her memory was obviously good, as she dispersed them without missing a beat, smiling all the while. While he hadn’t said anything, she was obviously knowing of what he preferred. She passed him a dark coffee that was imported from Nalaya, and had honey mixed with it. “If you need anything else, just let me know,” she told the men with a kind look, and backed away from the table to make herself scarce.

Thomas looked contemplative for a few long moments, looking between the men, before taking a long draw of his coffee. “Of course, of course, that would be something consider. Local help would be nice, but vetting would also be wise. I’m not exactly keen on letting any unwanted figures within the confines of my territory, understandably. Of course, at the moment, there isn’t much here that is really compromising, but that could change later on down the road,” he explained with a small nod. “This isn’t a small base, as you know, so we plan to make the most of it.”

The Brigadier cleared his throat, and glanced back and forth between the Mubatan staff members for a moment. “Of course, we will have our own hounds on the hunt as well. It’s pretty much standard procedure to have at least a team of STG members on any base outside the homeland,” he explained. He wasn’t quite sure how they would feel about Shalumite intelligence officers and agents in their homeland. “Mostly, they would filter signals intelligence from across the southern continent, but they would also have...counter-espionage capabilities as well.”

The Defense Minister cleared his throat.
“Ahem...Well. I guess we would figure that such would be the case. That your intelligence group would be here...But all the same, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Were Papa Lini...President Fazembe, to hear that foreign spies, even of an ally, were operating in our nation, he would…”

“...Not be pleased.” General Dzolema finished for him. “At any rate, at some point, the STG will probably have to work with D57, as they act as the military’s intelligence gathering agency as well.”

Rozabu nodded,
“They rolled up our military intelligence about 15 years ago. There is only the D57 now. They do all intelligence work for Mubata...as they have so orchestrated it.” Rozabu remember the days that the Directorate acted fast to make good their coup against their military counterparts. It was not a good day for him or his comrades.

In his seat, the Shalumite Brigadier coughed into a balled fist, feeling a little more than a tad awkward for a moment. In an attempt to keep them fully apprised on the situation, he had let more information than he needed to slip. Granted, it was something that they should have expected regardless, but there was the saying about loose lips and sunken ships. “Of course, of course, I am sure the agencies will get to know each other sooner or later,” he replied after a moment. Pausing, he took a long sip of his drink, and looked at them, curious of their intent here. Surely they hadn’t come out in such force for simple pleasantries.

“So, I will tell you the main reason for our visit now. Keep in mind that our ambassador is right now in the process of informing your government. As you know, we’ve been building up for months, with the help of your government. Aid money, plus arms. You had to know that wasn’t all for the rebels.”

General Dzolema interjected,
“Your advisers were incredible in our campaign against the rebels, by the way. They were instrumental in our achieving that victory.”

“Yes, so...In about a week and a half’s time, we will commence major operations. We will start the liberation of Yolenga Island...Er, I suppose those of you in northern Tyran call it Raithir. We are going to eject the Ossorian garrison or garrisons from the Island, and establish our presence. It will be the first time we have conducted major operations outside of our nation in decades.”

“Aside from small skirmishes and chasing the rebels over the border, of course.”

“Besides that, yes.”

At the news that the Mubatans planned to launch an offensive...beyond their territory, the Shalumite commander slowly set his drink down. His eyes were wide in surprise, and he was quiet for a long moment as he mulled over the news. Surely they couldn’t be serious? They were, in short, going to be picking a fight with one of the biggest dogs on the block, after all. A nation that not even Shalum wanted to go toe-to-toe with.

“I was aware of the buildup, yes, that was hard to miss. I always presumed that you were just trying to recover from the effort that you went into combating local insurgencies,” he replied after a moment. “I understand that you’ve been effective against the rebels, I’ve seen the results firsthand. But...fighting Ossoria? That, my friends, is a whole ‘nother level of enemy combatant. Are you sure you want to follow through with this? Small garrison or not, they’re still a superpower,” he pointed out, trying not to let the surprise seep into his tone.

General Dzolema nodded, as he’d also not been completely comfortable with the overall plan.
The Defense Minister spread his hands,
“Well, we had some good intel that they wouldn’t try to retake the Island, and even if they did, we’d be ready for them. They will get rather bloodied if they try to reclaim it.”

Dzolema broke in,
“That’s assuming we defeat the initial garrison. Which we will, no question. We are prepared to lose initially when they come back…”

“If they come back.”

“They will...but this may be the first of many campaigns to finally secure Yolenga.” Part of what he was saying was parroting what the Ministers and President Fazembe had said, as he wasn’t sure they could ever convince the Ossorians to really let go, but part of him truly had hope that they could wage a David vs. Goliath type war, and possibly make it too costly for the Ossorians to bother with the Island anymore. What might be clear was that Mubatan opinion in the higher council was mixed as to whether they would have to fight a bigger force, and the duration of a suspected war if they did.

Thomas swallowed, thickly, and reached down to grasp his cup of coffee with suddenly shaky hands. These Mubatans, his friends, had no earthly idea what they were getting themselves into. “Oh yes, they will come back, and when they do, it will be with a vengeance. They do not like it when their people are threatened,” he pointed out with a grim expression. “The Ossorian military, while not a powerhouse on the ground, is a force to be reckoned with on the seas, and even in the air. They will send marines, possibly isolate the island even,” he paused and looked at them.

“And then they will come for you-- us. Those on the Mubatan homeland. They will level it out of spite,” he went on. Of course, he had no idea what the Ossorians would do exactly, but it wasn’t hard to guess. “Are you prepared to suffer losses at home, then? They will occur sooner or later, I am certain.”

Minister Rozabu had expected somewhat of a neutral reaction, but not such the defeatist attitude from their closest and possibly only regional ally.
“When’s the last time they were really challenged? I would think they might have gone soft by now. We do have plans, both if they assault the Island and even the homeland here. Right, General?”

“That’s correct. We have, besides a lot of the munitions that we have gotten from your nation, stocked up other munitions, some bought on the open market, some gotten through cheaper, less above ground means. Rest assured, we have a good crew of arsenal techs to make sure that the ordnance will perform as desired and there’s been no degradation.
If...When they come...
We have a good amount of anti-ship missiles, that can be fired from land, our missile corvettes, and by air attack. Then, the fast attack craft can swarm in and do their damage. Then...we will have sewn mines in the harbors and out a bit off the coast, then...Once we have bloodied them at sea, what they have left, if they still continue, will have to brave the SAMs, AA and then, if they do make land...AT and mines, plus our armor, then, finally, our infantry. Layers of defenses dug in. Gun and RPG pits, booby trapped areas to funnel them into killing zones. Roving special operations forces doing hit and run, if they manage to get by all that. As the Minister has said, they haven’t fought a full war in quite some time. Fighting a practice war, or one on paper is quite different from the real thing…”
Again, unsaid was that Mubata hadn’t fought a full, conventional war in quite some time either. The civil war against the Marxist rebels couldn’t really count, even some of the larger engagements had still not been on a scale expected in the coming fight on Yolenga.

Brigadier Thomas resisted the urge to sigh through his teeth, not quite in frustration, but not far from it either. He had suspected that the rhetoric spouted by Papa Lini was part of trying to increase nationalism across Mubata, but he had never suspected that it was a leadup to actual military action. Leaders said a lot of shit, quite frankly, and that was why he had taken the talk of reuniting Raithir...no, Yolenga, with a grain of salt. But much to his displeasure, these military men before him were falling for the bullshit and drinking the kool aid too.

“It is true, the Ossorians have not been challenged in quite some time, probably over a hundred years,” he conceded. Of course, he knew there was a reason for that, the High Kingdom had long since established itself as a global power. No sane person wanted to see balance tipped, for it would only end negatively for all involved.

Thinking it over more, he tried to formulate a decent response. He didn’t want to be rude to these friends, as hairbrained as their ideas may have been. “You have certainly built up a respectable arsenal of weapons, both from my nation and others, I’ve seen the reports,” he replied with a small nod. “Properly applied, working together, they could do a good amount of damage to whatever Ossoria throws your way. It will be interesting to see how that ends up playing out,” he went on, and then took a sip of tea. “Forgive if I still have my doubts, but warfare of this scale is no laughing matter. There will be plenty of destruction on both sides, and much loss of life, regardless,” he added. “Thank you for warning me of this, by the way, for telling me all of this. I am sure about any other way of finding out would be...more shocking.”

The Minister took the lead again,
“We certainly would not want to shock you, our allies. You must understand that we know the possible consequences, but we must try. This occupation of Yolenga has been a thorn in our side for a long time and we have always been expected to just take it...Being the third world brown people that deserve to be lorded over. We have rightful claim to the Island and the timing has been the best now to take action, as we have always hoped to do so...At some point or another. We have defeated the Marxist rebels and we can contribute most of our full forces to the fight on the Island.”

The Shalumite brigadier took a long sip of his coffee, savoring the honey, which wonderfully complemented the Nalayan roast. “To view you as the people to be put down...lorded over, is not right. You’re just as much a person as I am, or any of my countrymen are,” Thomas replied soberly. Truth in his tone, but wariness in his eyes thanks to the news that had just been dropped on him. “I understand your people’s will to retake it...your patriotism. It would be a watershed moment if your people, if you achieve long term victory here. It would be a statement even, that Ossoria is not as invincible as they appear,” he managed a smile. “Even so, I am not looking to the measures that must be taken to achieve this, I’ve never been a fan of bloodshed unless it was needed,” he added after a moment. It's probably why they sent me down here to guard construction workers, he thought dryly.

The Minister and Comander in Chief looked at each other. Another Northerner that would never understand how they had felt over the centuries to be a pawn in their games. General Dzolema briefly wondered if they were making a mistake to let another Tyran northern power have so much control over their affairs as Shalum had taken, but it wasn’t his place to make such decisions.
“Your concern is noted, but we have faith that we will make it too costly a venture for Ossoria to try to reclaim the Island once it is in our possession. We are hoping to get a good share of the resources that foreign companies should be able to find there, as well as benefit from the expanded fishing grounds. We will build up and make it a virtual military fortress, if the Ossorians try to take it back. We may pay a bit of a steep price, but we will gain untold prestige in the region and the long term payoffs should be worth it. Plus...it’s what President Fazembe demands.”
The Minister finished with a wave of his hands back in the general direction of Karalaga to the South.

All the Shalumite brigadier was really nod in acknowledgement to that. He understood what it was like, taking orders from those higher up in the chain. Regardless of what his beliefs may have been, there was always someone above him that was telling him what he was supposed to do, and he had no other option to go along with it, obviously. The downside of this was what these folks before him would soon experience, he presumed, when this came back ‘round to bite them on the ass much harder than they were likely anticipating.

“Fair enough, fair enough. I get what you’re saying, we’ll just have to see how this turns out in practice. I never try to get my hopes up, but I hope it goes well. To see them knocked down a peg would be,” he paused as if he were searching for the right word. Honestly, he didn’t approve of this plan, but there was no use in fighting it further. It was like trying to duel with trolls on the internet, or something like that “...glorious. Yes, that is what it will be.” He nodded slowly. Taking another sip of his drink, he looked at them. “Is there anything else you would like to add, gentlemen? I had a small side note I wanted to bring up, that I figured would be best left for in-person conversation, but I don’t want to divert from the main topic until we’ve got it covered.”

“Well…” General Dzolema hesitated, unsure how to proceed. “...I think that was it. We felt we needed to notify you and your command. Like the Minister said, your Ambassador is also being informed as we speak, so your government will be advised. Of course, we would appreciate your continued assistance, even with the Liberation, but…”

The Minister finished,
“It would be understood if your government was hesitant or balked at openly defying the Ossorians, but, as our strongest ally, we could use your continued direction. Maybe you could put in the good word with your higher ups...your government.”

Thomas nodded in affirmation. “I will be happy to pass the word along, yes. Whether they choose to acknowledge it is another matter though, I’m afraid,” he admitted. There was a pause as he hesitated for a moment. “I will say though, that, in my own opinion, I think it is unlikely that Shalum will be willing to donate combat troops. We’ve already got over fifteen-thousand boots on the ground in Nalaya, one of our only allies in the region besides you. Its taken a toll on a lot of our capabilities that we would normally not have issue with, such as supply lines,” he explained.

It wasn’t quite the truth, in all honesty, he was overstating things a bit. Certainly, the Shalumite military was tied up, but not fully, not by any means. He knew that, somewhere out there in the government, there were even people that wanted to take on the High Kingdom, but it had never been pursued for a reason. The Shalumite navy, which was a dwarf compared to the other naval powers in the area. Every year they built up a bit more, but they were nowhere near the strength to contend Ossoria for the open seas. “I wish I could say the Shalumite navy could help you, but I know that we really can’t, I’m afraid. We barely have enough ships to keep our waters regularly patrolled,” he admitted.

Minister Rozabu settled back, shrugging.
“I think that we figured we would only be able to count on covert support. Again, we’ll wait to see the final word from your government, but...to continue to have your advisers on hand wouldn’t be a bad idea. We would most certainly protect them and keep them from direct combat and exposure to the Ossorians as much as possible. They would most certainly be a guarded secret, and any man that revealed their presence to outsiders or locals would do so under the threat of a death sentence.”

“I am sure my people would be very much reassured about those terms,” the Brigadier replied in an honest tone, nodding. Quite honestly, he had no idea what his government would say, but he did have some other ideas. “While I cannot promise them to you, given my government hasn’t weighed in on the matter, I will say that I can think of some people I could send along with your forces. Ones who wouldn’t stand out too much, at that. Maldorians,” he explained. “They’re our counterterrorism/insurgency advisers though, so maybe not the overall best for direct combat against Ossorians, but it is a start,” he added and then paused to take a sip of his drink. “I’m not sure if you’ve met them or not, but Maldorians are the tribesman that populated Shalum during the pre-colonization period.”

General Dzolema took over,
“Well, I believe that we had some Maldorians advising us during the last few months of the struggle against the Marxist rebels, the MFM. They were very instrumental in guiding our special operations forces, the Hyenas, in conducting modern counterinsurgency for sure. So, I can’t speak for the Minister, but I am very familiar and impressed with them.”

The Brigadier nodded in acknowledgement. “That is good to hear. Knowing that, they may be able to integrate and work with your forces in Yolenga a bit better even, if they go,” he replied as he mulled over the thought in his head. “They’re good, fierce fighters. The kind of people you want backing you up. Admittedly, a bit rough around the edges, at least some of them from the southern tribes are,” he shrugged a bit. “I’d support them going to Yolenga, if my government sends anyone.”

“I fully support that and I don’t want to brag, but...I do believe that I have enough influence with the President and with some of your bosses at the top of the command for the Shalumite Army to make that happen.”
The Minister said rather matter of factly.
“...I think the Maldorians will suit us well on Yolenga Island.”

---

Heaven’s Gate Combined Operations Base
Gyata, Mubata
Two Days Before Invasion of Mubata

What had followed the Mubatan ambassador’s announcement of the invasion, were several days of back and forth between the legislators of Shalum and the Imperator. All of the meetings were closed door, of course, and security was as tight as the Imperial government could truly make it. Operational security was always a thing of great importance whenever Shalumites were involved, or their allies in this case. At the very least, they did not want to reveal what the Mubatans were planning on doing.

Finally, there was a decision that was made, though it was by no means a unanimous one. Really, it was a compromise between the nobles, and their various factions and parties. The Shalumite government would not actively back any Mubatan operations with uniformed Imperial forces, though money and supplies would still flow to the mainland, and the base would certainly continue to be constructed.

However, that did not mean that they would say out of things completely, either. In an effort to at least look like they were not completely abandoning their allies, the Shalumite High Kommand promised the invasion force twenty advisers from Maldoria to accompany the Mubatans. They were all, as promised, experts on things such as insurgency and counterinsurgency. So when it came time to resist the Ossorians -assuming they stayed around on the island that long- the Mubatans would have some guidance as to how they should defend.

So, on this particular morning, relatively warm and dry, a group of twenty Maldorians gathered themselves. They were not wearing the uniforms of the Shalumite military, or even the Provincial Army, but instead the dress of the Mubatan army. There was a noticeable lack of rank, and they were packing Mubatan weapons, instead of the standard Wolf Armaments gear. Between their skin color, uniforms, and weapons, the untrained eye would have seen these men as little more than another band of local fighters preparing for war.

An hour or so later, a humvee and a logistical truck rolled through the base, ushered onwards by the guards to a warehouse areas of sorts. There, the vehicles were loaded up with these advisers, and in short turn departed for a nearby Mubatan military base. There they would wait until it came time for the great operation began, the invasion of Yolenga.

[Mubata]

NORTH OF DUNKITT
YOLENGA ISLAND

With the cessation of organized resistance, General Nkoro was not keen on bringing more reinforcements to the island, but they were still coming, whether he liked it or not.
He had overestimated the size and preparation of the enemy resistance, and now, with more troops flowing in, it just seemed like comical overkill.

As he reflected further on the reports flowing in, he realized that he had sacrificed lives unnecessarily. For most Mubatan military leaders, that would not be an issue, as the goals had been achieved, but to Nkoro, it was needlessly wasteful and not reflective of the campaigns he had run on the mainland against the rebels. Operations that had made him popular with his soldiers and the civilians who had suffered under both the rebels and previous indifferent commanders prosecuting the government’s war.
He had felt the pressure to make a big show with landing troops on the Island, and that had taken precedence over a rapid airborne deployment to close in on Dunkitt and any other satellite garrisons.

He had been convinced that with the air strikes, surprise would be lost anyway, but now, he was sure that he had vastly overestimated the Ossorian defenses. He hated to second guess himself, especially since it was all a moot point now. The battles were over, for the most part, and they had won. However, he was lacking both the Ossorian governor and the main garrison commander. He hoped both were on the Island, but he couldn’t be certain they hadn’t been spirited off by boat, or were hiding in the mountains.

Interrogation of Captain Hensey and the remaining high ranking Ossorians would hopefully reveal if they had escaped or their whereabouts on the Island.
His plan had been to make sure the Ossorian officers were firmly in Army custody, and allow the D57 limited access. Of course, the Directorate presence on the Island, led by the ‘Facilitator’, had no intention of working within that framework.

As was often the case in Mubatan affairs, the Army and Directorate 57 were working at cross purposes in operations, in this case - trying to achieve a successful liberation of Yolenga. It was no secret to anyone how Nkoro felt about the intelligence agency that had direct edict from the Fazembe dynasty to operate.
His attempts to stay ahead of D57 had so far seen mixed results.

All of that mattered little at the moment as Etomo Nkoro had a war to run. He had no notion that he had accomplished anything noble here, and was in fact, sure that his reputation would forever be sullied, both because of the slow, plodding 'liberation', and also he would ultimately be the General that also lost Yolenga back to the Ossorians.

Despite Nkoro’s little shared certainty, in Karalaga they were all trying to convince themselves that the Ossorians wouldn't bother taking back their far flung island territory. The reality was very much different. How soon and how much force they used when the Royal Ossorian government did react was the more realistic question.

He had had Colonel Emzaka of the 1st Mwanga Fusiliers task someone to bring back the female Ossorian officer. He had little time before the 1st Mwanga mid level officer should arrive with the garrison commander, so he needed to focus on the task at hand.
"...and so, I need your men to get into those Nalayan villages as soon as possible."

"Yes, Sir. We can do that." Colonel Ishmael Aganza responded. The Hyena commander had been flown out to where General Nkoro had his headquarters set up, just north of Dunkitt, in order to confer in person on coordinating the special operations forces with Nkoro’s liberation plan. While he had tasked the Hyenas with missions prior to the initiation of the liberation, the situation on the ground was rapidly changing, as so often happened in times of war.

"...And I mean no more than two men at most. You understand why?"
Nkoro focused on the subordinate.

“I believe so. In order to not rile them?” Having shared a border so long with their southern neighbors, their stubborn, independent nature was not so much a surprise to the special operations forces commander.
“As you may remember, Sir, in my career...I had many opportunities to run scouting and small operations over the southern border. I am well aware of how obstinate and fierce a people the Nava’i people are. We will take care to tread lightly and be as diplomatic as possible.”

“Within reason, they do need to understand that we won’t tolerate aid to the Ossorians, covert or otherwise. I want them to know that we will work with them to respect their structural integrity, but we can’t have them working at cross purposes to our goals.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good. We need to work quickly. I think we can afford to peel off some of your teams from the garrison battles in order to make the ‘visits’.”

“Do you think that’s wise, Sir? I mean...there is a chance that some of the Ossie Marines will escape the encirclement. They could well start an insurgency.”

“That is exactly why we need to deny the Nalayan villages as safe havens for the Ossorians and the mysteriously missing Governor. As for an insurgency...The Directorate’s harsh treatment of some of our own Mubatan Yolengans is ensuring the inception of a resistance to Mubatan government rule. Colonel, I need you to beat the Facilitator’s men into the South, before they create a larger mess that we can’t contain.”

“Yes, Sir. We will do our best.”

Nkoro sighed.
“That’s all I can ask, I suppose. Please, make haste. Dismissed.”

Colonel Aganza saluted crisply and exited the small rancher’s domicile that was serving as Nkoro’s temporary HQ.

---

OUTSIDE MARALIK

Within a couple hours, General Nkoro’s orders, via Colonel Aganza was being enacted through teams from the Doa and Mstari Groups of the Hyena Special Operations Forces. Across Yolenga, several Spider FAVs were racing down the roads, manned by two operators each, in order to make contact with the Nalayan towns and villages that peppered the southern reaches of the Island.

Lieutenant Dukaza and his teammate, Staff Sergeant Fimbala, were one such crew from the Hyena’s Doa Group. While there was a .50 caliber MG mounted on the back roll bar of the vehicle, it was bound tight and in a down position by velcro ties. The Lieutenant held a Type 300 SMG in his lap, ready should they fall into an ambush on the dirt highway that led into Maralik. Sergeant Fimbala had an 300 SMG next to his seat, as well. If absolutely need be, he could quickly unfasten the straps to the MG, but preferably, they would keep that in reserve and secured, so as not to antagonize potential Nalayan observers, as well as not giving a hostile impression during those first few crucial moments of pulling into the town center. In addition, they had a booster to increase their digitally linked signal to command, and a bag with some other goodies in the back of the Spider. Some that should be welcome to the Maralikans, and some that could bring terror to those same townsfolk.

They would have a bridge to cross over the Nairi River, then they would be directly in the small Nalayan ethnic town.
Presently, all they could see was thick jungle, but according to the GPS, they were less than 2 km from hitting the bridge over the Nairi. Dukaza glanced at his NCO teammate, who was unreadable behind goggles that kept the dust out of his eyes.
Within minutes, they would be challenged beyond their marksmanship and skills of merely outmaneuvering enemy forces. They would be forced to choose their words carefully, even though rough scripts had been provided.

While they had been in situations before where they needed to deal with rural Mubatan villagers before, during the campaigns against the MFM rebels, neither had had to deal with Nalayans. There was some shared anxiety between all the Hyena operators that despite having gone through the required briefings on Nalayan cultural norms, they could misinterpret a gesture, word or other situation and thereby lose a particular village for the Mubatan authorities, to the resistance. If one Nalayan village was lost, certainly others could follow. Not to mention, there was the very real risk of losing their own lives in the process.

To no one in particular, as the trees thinned, Dukaza spoke aloud,
“Mama Nchi! Well, here goes nothing.”

This takes place ICly soon after the fall of Chynelle, which has yet to be RP'd yet.

[Ossoria]

Major Anwill hiked through the mountainous jungle at the heart of the island along a squad of his Marines. Hours earlier, he had abandoned his position at Chynelle, destroying the base with explosives and gasoline bombs, and set out for the interior as it burned.

In order to maintain secrecy inasmuch as possible, he had been forced to detach his logistics personnel, armed only with a sidearm, a coin purse and a satellite phone, to rent the use of some local farmers' barns in order to hide the stripped vehicles he had used to evacuate as much men and materiel as he could. Afterwards, they were to try to organize some kind of supply line for the rest of the Marines, though Anwill personally doubted they would have too much success on that front.

He and his remaining Marines had set off into the mountains on foot, headed towards an area he knew well from past exercises intended to prepare for combating a theoretical uprising by the Nava'i in the south of the island. Had they used the trucks and other vehicles, they could have gotten a lot farther into the bush by now, but at the cost of being painfully easy to track. As it was, Major Anwill estimated that it would take another day to reach his destination.

In order to reduce the risk of detection or being tracked as they walked, he had his Marines split up into their separate squads, which where themselves dispersed in order to minimize the damage done to the jungle floor as they passed. Additionally, he had imposed strict radio silence orders in an effort to minimize the possibility that they would be detected by electronic means. The only other thing the Major and his Marines could do was pray.

---

Sir Úistean Morys, the Governor of the Dominion of Raithir, had begun his day with little more to look forward to than meetings and mountains of paperwork. He had then suddenly found himself thrown bodily into a car driven by his chief of staff by a couple Marines who ordered him to remove himself from his capital city. That had been several hours ago, and he was now one of several hundred refugees standing on one of the docks of Llannon, a city to the south-west of Dunkitt, trying to board a the last ship in the harbor.

The name painted on the ship proclaimed her to be the MV Sea Maiden, and she had arrived just as news of the attack had broken, seeking to take on fresh provisions before departing for parts unknown. In the panic, she had landed at the bottom of the queue to leave the harbor, and as refugees flooded in from Dunkitt, they swarmed the bottom of the gangway, begging to be let aboard.

Sir Morys followed as his chief of staff elbowed her way through the crowd to where the Sea Maiden's captain was standing with a megaphone, asking for the people to back away so that he could cast off. When she reached the captain, she pointed to the Governor, saying "This is the governor of Raithir, you have to take him off the island!"

The captain looked at her and then to him, sighed and looked to the two seamen who were guarding the bottom of the gangway. "Give me a moment, do not let anyone aboard without my express permission." The captain returned to the governor and his chief of staff, gesturing a loading area not far from the gangway with his megaphone. "This way."

Once they were clear of the people by a fair distance, the captain turned and leaned in towards the governor's face. "I'm not planning to take anyone off this dock, Sir, and that includes you, I'm afraid." When both Sir Morys and his chief of staff opened their mouths to protest, the captain continued. "My ship isn't what she seems, Sir. I trust I needn't say more than that?"

The question was delivered in the tone of a statement, and Sir Morys shut his mouth with an almost audible click. There were a handful of merchant ships in service with the Royal Ossorian Navy, and each of them were converted and retrofitted container ships like the Sea Maiden. They were the Navy's answer to resurgent pirate attacks on merchant shipping, a wolf in sheep's clothing. The Admiralty called them Ambuscade-class armed merchant cruisers, and they were equipped with about a dozen chain guns and nearly half again as many heavy machine guns mounted in false cargo containers. They also carried a few dozen Marines to work the weapons, man prize crews and detain pirates. The fact that these ships were completely reliant on stealth and subterfuge meant that the captain wanted to get out to open waters before the Mubatans closed off the port and possibly tried to board the ship, because she had almost no other defense against most proper military forces.

"I understand that, Captain, I really do," Sir Morys said, looking at the crowd of refugees clamoring for a chance to escape. "However, I can't let you leave all of these people behind."

The Sea Maiden's captain looked rebellious. "Even if I could wait for hours to pack everyone on board, there is nowhere I could take them before they all starved to death!"

"Then don't take everyone!" Sir Morys fired back. "Take the children at least, you're a military vessel, so you should have emergency supplies for a few weeks, which should be enough to last at least until you can reach a friendly port if you ration them, right?"

"Assuming that the Mubatans don't blow us out of the water, you mean," the captain muttered. "Fine, I'll take the children, but I'm casting off in thirty minutes even if i have to hack the mooring lines, so you had best get them aboard before then." The captain paused for a moment, before continuing in a quiet tone. "And what of yourself, Sir?"

Sir Morys hesitated a moment before responding. "I can't take a chance that I'm denying a parent. I'm staying." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his chief of staff noticeably wince at his statement, but he forced himself to ignore it.

"Goddess help you then, Sir."

---

Half an hour later, Sir Morys watched as the Sea Maiden left the harbor entrance with 243 children crammed aboard before turning to his chief of staff. "Well, I guess we need to figure out where to hide and try to wait this one out, got any ideas?"

Meanwhile, aboard the Sea Maiden, the captain had left the children in the hands of several of his Marines below decks, where they were busy impressing upon them the need to not go into certain areas of the ship, as well as a very basic and very quick rundown of what to do in case of fire or sinking (which mostly boiled down to 'follow some colored tape to the deck and let the Marines deal with the problem'). A single order embodied all that they could realistically do for the moment to try and survive this ordeal: "Fly Shalumite colors and keep a close lookout."

[Nalaya]

After the Fall of Chynelle
Maralik, Raithir/Yolenga

Alis Varazhnuni, once better known as Black Alis, had grown accustomed to a quiet life on the island, now used to the changing of the seasons and the rhythms of daily life so far removed from the seemingly endless wars that had wracked Nalaya. Now the homeland was at war again, but no longer she would answer the call of the Tigress. She was only in her mid-thirties, but she had seen enough that she knew she wanted no part of war any longer. Her old experiences as an enforcer and milits'iayi encounter, her old role in the Unkndirnei, that had elevated her to a certain status among the villagers. If people had a problem, they went to Black Alis. She tried to be fair, but sometimes the only way things were settled was blood. Usually not much, but sometimes.

"Alis," a voice said urgently behind her as she weeded her garden, dirt caked on her jeans were she knelt in the loam. This was just the simple vegetable garden, not the bulk of crops or the orchards themselves. Those were a communal affair, with everyone putting their backs into the labor. "There are milits'iayi at the edge of the village."

The road to Maralik was old, long, and winding. It was happy accident that it allowed a good overlook. Isralian was still a boy, but he had sharp eyes and good ears, so when he tended the goats out in that direction, he often made note of the approach. When she turned around, she could read his expression easily: nothing good can come of soldiers.

"Ring the bell," Alis ordered. It would bring the farmers in from the fields in case of danger as well as alert everyone in the small town. As Isralian sped off, a tall and lanky male figure approached. Belaern was the only one of his people in the village, a Mak'ur man with bronze skin and sun-bleached hair. His green eyes were hard like jade and heavily lidded so that he always looked half asleep, a common trait among his people. He still dressed like he was in Maerimydra, a wrap of cloth covering him from knee to waist without a shirt to cover the swirling tattoos in green script that formed patterns all across his body.

"D'anthe," he greeted, leaning in to kiss Alis softly. When he pulled back, she saw a hint of worry in his eyes. "Soldiers mean trouble."

"Agreed. That's why I want you and a few others on a roof with rifles, just in case," Alis said firmly. She ducked inside the house long enough to grab a rifle from the bad old days, an old Acrean piece she had thought she would never have to use again except for the occasional animal trying to get into the henhouse. She already had a machete tucked at the back of her belt, easily drawn but out of the way. She didn't want to have to use it on anyone either.

The village became a hive of activity as people arranged themselves in preparation for armed trouble. There wasn't a huge tension to the air, as most were just falling back into old habits. The few people on edge were the island-born, but they were in the minority after the flood of displaced milits'iayi from the war--people who couldn't stay on the mainland because of all the memories...or the long arm of the law.

[Mubata]

CHYNELLE

The flight of Viggens that were on current CAP over the AO did a low swoop over the central Ossorian town. Noting that there was very little movement they circled back out. They had fuel for one more pass, before needing to head back to the mainland. Another CAP was on the way to the relieve them. Soon, future MAF CAPs would be able to use the strip at Dunkitt, as well as the temporary one nearing completion north of Dzowaz. Until then, for the next few hours, they still had to make the full return trip home, at least until the MAF’s air refueler took to the skies.

Meanwhile, the Second Battalion of the First Mwanga Regiment, under Major Hatezi had taken the high ground...from no one. The cliffs and foothills of the Slebima mountains that overlooked the town of Chynelle had a decent view, but several of the buildings were still shrouded by jungle - higher palms and other thick fronded trees. As far as the scouts and snipers on overwatch could tell, the Ossorians were not to be seen, so well burrowed in they must be.
Hatezi cursed in his mind, careful not to say out loud around his subordinates, that General Nkoro had made a horrible mistake in not pushing a surprise attack by air assault. The enemy had had plenty of time to prepare while it had taken his group hours to get to the center of the island. He held up a radio mic. The set was bolted into his MPTV-U - and then he clicked over to the special encrypted channel that would reach the Hyenas on the south end of the encirclement.

“Dereva. This is Kitanzi. Copy?”

“Roger, Kitanzi. Dereva in place. Over.”

“Anything? Over.”

“Negative. No movement. No enemy in sight. Over.”

“Roger. Stay ready. Over.”

“Will do. Over and out.”

Finally, Hatezi couldn’t hold any longer and he nodded to his sub commanders. The scouts were sent in, and they began to filter down, a couple on the road, more in off the roads in the trees. They moved very carefully in teams of two, with one man having eyes at regular level and one with eyes down low on the lookout for trip wires, mines and IEDs. The snipers settled in their overwatch positions watched from above the trees. Word had already come in that the Ossorians had used mines and boobytraps to the West, at Dunkitt. The men of 2nd Battalion were determined not to make the same mistakes.

The Hyena special operation teams had taken up staggered hidden positions on the southern outskirts of the town. As they had told the Major, they had no sight of enemy troops out and about, or any hardened positions anywhere. No one was feeling good about the situation, despite not facing heavy resistance. For that matter, there weren’t many civilians out either, but that was to be expected. Still, a weird aura hung about the town.

As the Mubatan regulars of the Mwanga Regiment approached the complex that the Ossorian Marines had used for a base in Chynelle, they moved from cover to cover, awaiting fire from the defenders. Those opening blasts of rounds would never come, but an even bigger surprise would.

As the first scout squads closed in, night became day, with the illumination blinding the night scopes and goggles of the snipers and Hyena spec ops waiting to back up the regular forces.
Fingers tensed on triggers, as they all tried to get a bead on where what they presumed were rockets had been fired from.

The men closer to the blast had no time to have any such reactions. Eleven men were shredded immediately, six of them vaporized, they were so close to the blast wave. Others went down, either from blast pressure, or limbs torn off or shrapnel peppering them down. 8 more men would eventually die of their wounds.

The inferno went on as the Mubatans tried to comprehend that they would not have to fight a battle that they had already lost.

---

LIBERATION HQ

When word reached General Nkoro’s headquarters of the destruction of the Chynelle base, plus the obliteration of Mubatan lead scout elements in the explosions, all he could do was hang his head. News of Chynelle came within just minutes of seeing the Governor’s Mansion in Dunkitt go up in a fireball. The Ossorians had done it again, blowing up key pieces of infrastructure, taking out some of his men in the process, and still leaving him without the top leadership, who were somewhere still loose on the Island...he hoped.

It was pounded home to him again that despite the President’s insistence on a big show of landing troops for the liberation, that at least the initial assaults should have been lightning blitz raids via airborne, to bank on the element of surprise and stop the defenders from doing exactly what they had just done. He had given in to politics, and now it was the same politics that would ruin him. He would never ever be able to live this down, even should the rest of the campaign to secure and defend the Island from counterattack go relatively smoothly.

He was not a fool. He held no illusions that such events could unfold without the Ossorian beast awakening to the North and coming back to hit them with full vengeance, despite the idiot leadership back in Karalaga being convinced otherwise. When that happened, not if, but when the Ossorians counterattacked, there would be little the Mubatan military machine could do to withstand the superior onslaught. They might be able to bleed the Ossies a little, but it would all be for naught. Meanwhile, Nkoro would be a pariah. He would be the prime scapegoat, held out for the slaughter, that is if he survived and made it back to Mubata.

Were it not for his need to try to guide his troops through the next few crucial weeks, he might consider the ritual suicide such as that that had been practiced in ancient Nihon.
The best he could do now was to minimize the damage and casualties inflicted upon his men, and the general populace, and he wasn’t really even doing a good job of that. D57 was running rampant already in the northern and eastern villages, turning the population against them. Even the ethnic Mubatans that might have come to the homeland’s side were being turned against the homeland due to the extremely harsh measures being enforced by the Mubatan secret police.

Meanwhile, the Royal Ossorian garrison command had somehow come to the sense rather quickly that their only chance at survival was to switch to guerrilla warfare, boobytrapping and bringing down the infrastructure of the Island, therefore denying it to the enemy, rather than attempt any kind of Alamo stand.

He had dealt with the MFM rebels back in Eastern Mubata, and he had tricks up his sleeve, learned through hard lessons, to deal with the Ossorian saboteurs, but the fact remained that it never had needed to come to this point if he had done the blitz raids as he had originally intended. It was time for him to stop running this like a clockwork invasion and batten down the hatches to salvage what chance remained of bringing order back to Yolenga.

---

Speaking of the Mubatan secret police, agents of Directorate 57 were quite active in all the recently seized villages on the Island, especially those ethnic Mubatan villages that harbored civilians sympathetic to the homeland government. They mined these informers rapidly for any information they could provide on neighboring towns, the Ossorian authorities, Nalayan militias and possible traitors residing in what were originally presumed to be loyal Mubatan towns.

In Rafinda, Bivkawa and Kozulwi, these ‘traitors’, often personal enemies of the informers, were hunted down, rounded up and dealt with in various ways. Many were temporarily detained behind concertina wire or commandeered buildings until decisions could be made by the top D57 man himself on Yolenga, The Facilitator, as to what to do with them all. Others found a much quicker summary fate, if they showed any signs of resistance or tried to run.

---

NORTH OF DUNKITT

After they led her from the Mubatan army vehicle, the MPs slipped a burlap bag over Captain Hensey’s head, one holding her and the other yanking it into place. They weren’t intentionally brutal with her, but neither were they too careful not to jostle her wounded arm or be gentle with her in any way. The D57 agents didn’t even bother to talk to her at all. With her bound up, they felt it would be easier to just push her and prod her to the positions or spots they needed her to be, instead of trying to communicate in English an Ossorian could understand. They shoved her into one of the back seats and the Spider revved up again, doing a three point turn to go back the way it had come.

They drove for a few minutes, then the Spider FAV vehicle stopped. She was pulled from the vehicle and dragged along until they stopped short. A door was opened, they made footsteps down some kind of tile hallway, before coming to another door. Then they led her down stairs, coming to a landing, then another set of stairs. Everything was echoing at this point, with the sound of clanking metal. The stairs and even the walls might be metal, as elbows brushed up against it while wrestling her down the stairs. More prods in order to get her cooperation.

Finally, they walked down a hall and she was dragged into another room. They pulled her down onto a chair, and then pulled the bag off her head. A dim, cloudy bulb hung from a cord in the ceiling, with no shade or cover, in an otherwise starkly bare room. Darker spots where pictures might have hung were visible on the walls. The door they’d come through was a heavy steel door. One of the agents, in a sports tracksuit, held out his hand to Hensey, motioning her to stay down and seated. A table was a few feet from her, with another chair pulled up to it. He gave her one last look, almost one of disgust, then as the MPs left, he followed them.

---

Captain Hensey’s wounded arm throbbed as she sat in the chair her captors had put her into, but she tried to ignore it as she absorbed her surroundings inasmuch as she could with the dim light and largely bare room she found herself in.
Well ain’t this some shit, she thought sourly. Hopefully whatever they ultimately deign to ask they’ll be satisfied with my name, rank, number and birthday, though I rather doubt that will be the case, what with how my day has been like so far.

Having exhausted her meager list of things to do, Hensey closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing, wondering how long her new holders would play this ridiculous dominance game of theirs.

---

After about twenty or so minutes, the door opened again, held by one of the MPs. A man, possibly a man, ducked his head to avoid winging it on the top of the door frame. He was probably one of the largest, tallest men that Captain Hensey had ever seen and was over seven feet tall. He had a smooth, bald scalp, and large brown, piercing eyes. He wore a cream colored, breathable canvas suit, much as was the style on the mainland of Mubata. Instead of a tie, or even a lapelled shirt, he had just a sleeveless tank on, with just the barest discoloring of sweat. The most striking thing about his neck was the gold plated skull on a chain that hung around it. It was the actual skull of a monkey.
His skin was a dark ebony, but he cracked a smile as he straightened his head after clearing the door. His teeth showed a sort of yellowy off white in contrast to the rest of his face. They were very big and even.
He spoke,
“Captain Hensey. It is an honor to see you. I’ve heard so much about you and seen your work.”
His voice was a deep, booming bass, almost like gravel rumbling.
He pushed the table out, shoving it toward one wall between them, and placed a metal briefcase on it. Then he scooted the other chair in the room closer to Hensey. He attempted to fit his giant frame in the little chair, his knees going out at awkward angles and almost touching her knees.
“You did a fine, admirable job out there. You should be proud. Your people should be proud. I think we’re all sooo impressed. You did your duty, and you did it well. Oh….my apologies. I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Mr. Nyaza. I am your facilitator.”

---

Hensey quickly scanned the newcomer and had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at him as he sat opposite her. His size, while impressive, seemed decidedly less threatening and quite more ludicrous when he tried to cram it into a chair which threatened to collapse just from his walking into the same building. Adding the fact that he had elected to decorate himself with what appeared to be the gold shrunken head, which Hensey presumed was intended to impress and intimidate, looked sufficiently out of place to threaten a laughing attack.

Hensey took a few heartbeats to be sure she had herself sufficiently under control and fixed her opponent in an icy hazel gaze, her mouth kept firmly shut.

---

Nyaza took in her contortions in the face, looking her up and down and watching her intently as she got herself under control. He had been doing this a long time and was very good at reading human expression. The grin left his face as his survey came up with a degree of mirth coming from the Ossorian woman.
“I think that you might not have the gravity of the situation fully grasped, Captain. Ultimately, I may not need you, as we could probably find out what we need without you. In the meantime, however, we would hope you could really focus on matters here....Do you find me comical, like a clown? I think it’s time to help you focus now, Captain.”

He casually reached out and smacked her wounded arm, very near to where the bullet had entered. It was a closed fisted jab, but with a power that such a short jab shouldn’t have been able to deliver. Her chair scooted back from the impact. The gold monkey skull swung back into place on his chest from its dip forward with his torso as he sat back down into the chair.

---

Hensey’s arm exploded with pain and spots momentarily splashed across her vision, forcing her to screw them shut as the sensation shot through her. So…that’s how it’s going to be, she thought bitterly. After a moment, she re-opened her eyes, again fixing her tormentor in an icy glare and remaining silent.

---

Nyaza smiled again, but kept his lips shut. He leaned forward with one forearm resting on his knee. He brought the other hand up and rubbed his finger and thumb under his chin, then dropped them down to lightly caress the gold monkey skull.
“Ah...That’s my girl. Tough Captain. I think you are properly focused now. I will be very honest with you…”
He stood up, pushing the chair closer to the door, then walked over to his case on the table. He popped the latches and opened the top, revealing gleaming silver tools. He paused, looking at her, then back down into the case. He smiled wider and pulled out a large curved scalpel, then returned to stand a couple feet in front of Hensey. He pointed the scalpel at her as continued,
“...We don’t have too much time to play the games I usually like to play. Especially with a tough, yet cute, athletic girl such as yourself. So, I’m going to cut through the bullshit. I want to know where your superiors went. Your Governor, and...I believe your commanding officer. Name of….Colonel...Amsgill, was it? You need to let us know where they went, because it’s not just your life on the line, after all. Do you understand?”

---

Hensey’s heart skipped a beat at the torturer’s line of questioning. If this fucker’s asking this right out the gate, then there’s at least an even chance that both Governor Morys and Major Anwill managed to escape...the lucky bastards...which means that my job isn’t done yet… Her eyes flitted to the scalpel in his hand. Oh shit...this is going to suck…

Taking a deep breath, she said, in a tone of hammered steel, “Hensey, Evette Kerra. Captain, Royal Ossorian Marine Corps. Serial Number 405-5375. 28 March 1983.”

---

“Evie, Evie, Little Evie...Such a good little soldier to the very end.” Nyaza walked around her bound form on the chair to behind her,
“I am the Facilitator. Do you know what that means, Captain Evie? A helper...To help? Right?” He plowed on in a rhetorical monologue, not waiting for, or expecting a reply.
“That is my job. To help you...to help us. And if you help us...You help yourself. No more pain, no more questions....Comfort...”
Suddenly, he was on her. His hand took hold of her scalp. It was so large that it was like a giant tarantula had encased half her head. He pushed down and back on her head, so that she was forced to look up at him. The smell of pungent kot emanated from his breath, washing across her face. His fingers squeezed onto her skull, incrementally increasing pressure until it started to get very uncomfortable for her. With his other large hand, he brought up the scalpel and slowly lowered it directly towards her left eye.
“I suppose if you were to lose one of these eyes, it might make you realize the seriousness of the predicament you are in. Don’t you think?”

---

Hensey clenched her mouth shut as the torturer hovered the blade over her eye, her breaths coming faster and more ragged as she anticipated the imminent ordeal. Suddenly, her mind dredged up the memory of part of the speech given to her class by the general who officiated her graduation from the Academy at the ceremony.

"In the moment in which one comes face to face with the starkly cold and harsh realities that underpin the lofty words that we humans bandy about such as 'honor' and 'duty' you will be alone. When you come face to face with your own mortality and are forced to make a choice which can end in your death and the deaths of all those who rely on you, [i]you will be alone. When you find yourself in this moment, you will have only four things upon which you can rely on to support you.

“The first will be your training, which has been as demanding as we could possibly make it in order to prepare you for what may come and what you may be called upon to endure. The second will be your courage, which is something that can only come from within yourself, but that we hope has been fortified by the discipline, self-respect and self-confidence which we have sought to instill in each of you. The third will be your loyalty, not necessarily to the High Kingdom, but to your comrades with whom you will serve and who will be depending on you to do your duty to the best of your ability so that they may do theirs. The fourth and final support you have will be the eternal tradition of the Corps: a tradition of sacrifice for something greater than yourself and for all those who you stand for and shelter from that which wants to do them harm.

“Some of you will not survive that moment, some of you will be broken by it, but many of you, indeed most of you, will rise to the occasion.”[/i]

The memory helped to harden her resolve, and she remained defiantly and determinedly silent as she awaited the inevitable.

---

Nyaza squeezed tighter on Hensey’s head with his right hand. Her feet had been bound to the chair, and her arms were bound around the seat back with zipties by the MPs that had propped her up in the room.

He could feel her tremble and try to buck minutely, to no effect, in the chair, but it just made him grip harder. He brought the scalpel down with his left hand, right towards her eye. At the last second, he moved it down, to where the edge of her eye socket met her cheekbone. He punctured into the soft skin and drew the blade slowly, in order to increase her panic and pain, across the cheek, cutting fairly deep. All the while, he had his mouth closed, but was breathing heavily through his nostrils as he concentrated. When finished, he whipped the scalpel up and off of her cheek. He walked around from behind the chair to face her again. A bright smile overtook his face as he observed his handiwork.
He waited until she worked through the pain to refocus on him.

---

Hensey involuntarily gritted her teeth and screwed her eyes shut as the blade slowly cut through her face. She did her best to bear the searing pain being drawn across her cheek, but she couldn’t prevent a lengthy grunt of pain escaping from her lips. After a moment, she opened her eyes and glared at her tormentor and remained silent.

---

Nyaza continued to smile. He flicked the blood from the scalpel onto the front of Hensey’s fatigue top, some of it splattering her chin.
“I have helped you to focus now, hopefully. Your insolence is petty and not helping the situation. You are wasting all of our time. Let me ask you once more...Where is your fallback position for the administration and defensive garrison of Yolenga Island? Where did the Governor and Colonel Ankswell go?”

---

Hensey said nothing for a moment, her mind racing. Finally, she spoke, her words grating through clenched teeth.

“There is no ‘fallback position’, you took both of them,” she said.

---

Nyaza nodded, the smile fading.
“You mean you blew both of them up...I assume we’re talking about your facilities in Chynelle and Dunkitt, not to mention the naval station in Bergel and various other facilities, like the radar sites. Anyway, I just flat out don’t believe you, because of the way things have occurred so far. The defense your people had planned seems to be going along a set series of fallback lines, enacting a ‘slash and burn’ policy. There should be at least one more position...Otherwise, why have the rest of the garrison and your Governor not surrendered by now?”

---

“Can’t say, the Colonel didn’t tell me,” Hensey said. “He knew I couldn’t hold Dunkitt so why would he give me his itinerary? As for that asshole, The Governor, he skipped town as soon as word got in that you people landed.”

---

Nyaza stood in place, studying Captain Hensey expressionlessly.
“‘You people’...Yes, I see. I will say that you sound to be more cooperative, but somehow...I still don’t believe that you don’t know where your commander or Governor have gone off to. You don’t have a big organization here on Yolenga…” He looked down at the bloody scalpel in his large left hand. He hefted it and turned it over, thinking. He decided to give her one more chance,
“...I have to think you’re in the loop more than you let on. There must be a pre-planned fallback position in these eventualities. So then...Where is it? Where are they?”

---

“Even if that were true, my capture would throw anything I or any of my people know out the window. The very fact that we have a comparatively small garrison would require the Colonel to build in cutouts into any operational plan he makes, and we got volunteered.”

---

Nyaza sighed, dropping the scalpel down to his side from examining it in his hand.
“Ooohhh...Captain Evie. Captain, Cap’n Cap’n. Evette, Evie, Evie. I want so hard to believe you. I do...I really do. Did I tell you how impressed I was with your leadership? Very...very impressed...Your troops you led so valiantly are not yours to lead any longer, though. You can drop the act. You are allowed to be yourself and not be tough with me. It’s okay, your superiors aren’t watching now...We won’t tell if you do tell.” He smiled at that witticism. Then he walked to the case, picking up a rag to wipe off his precious tool, then put it back in its place.
“Anyway. We’re done here for now. I think you need some more convincing, but it won’t come from me. I tire of this game and I have others to attend to, including other of your countrymen.”
He had walked to the door and then he knocked on it.
The MP on the other side opened it. Nyaza spoke several, clipped sentences in Tizi to him, and to another guard out of sight of the doorway.
The two MPs walked into the room as Nyaza prepared to leave.
“So long until the next time, Captain Evie Hensey. These men are here to adjust your lying, stubborn attitude. Give you some other things to ponder and maybe turn you around for our next session. They won’t rape you, as you are an evil white she devil, but I can’t promise they won’t hurt you...too much. Mahahahahahahaha.” His booming bass voice echoed around the room. Nyaza ducked easily below the door frame and made his way out, his gold monkey skull swinging like a pendulum all the while, until it once again rested on his chest.

Meanwhile, the two MP soldiers walked up and stood in front of Captain Hensey, taking an at ease stance, their legs spread apart.
They had large grins on their faces as they saw the blood running freely down her cheek already, from the slash courtesy of Mr. Nyaza. It seemed to give them the bloodlust they were looking for.
One MP lashed out, kicking back the chair that Hensey was in. It teetered as it hit a pockmark in the cement floor, then it began it’s tilt back, picking up momentum, until the chair back smashed on the floor and her head crashed soon after it. Then the two MPs commenced to kick and punch her, all up and down her body with special attention given to her shattered arm, as she was still bound to the chair. They giggled all the while.

---

MARALIK, YOLENGA

The Spider FAV slowed as Staff Sergeant Fimbala started to tap the brakes. Lt. Dukaza kept scanning the buildings as they scooted further into the center of town, coming up short of a well. He had placed his submachine gun down to between his legs. As the light attack vehicle came to a halt, he stood up, pushing his dust goggles back on his bush hat. Then he held his hands up and turned slowly around, first one way then another. There were a few Nalayans in sight. Curtains, if they existed, moved. Livestock made anxious noises. He glanced shadows up high. They were sighting in on them from the rooftops. He wouldn’t expect any less.

He raised his voice, but it couldn’t be considered a shout, so much as a volume appropriate for group address:
“We come in peace. We represent the new authority, The Mubatan Liberation Authority of Yolenga. I’d like to speak to your leader…” He puzzled a minute. They obviously wouldn’t call their town mayor or chief a ‘Mku’. These were Nava’ai. He pushed on. Leader would do for now. “...Please! Come out so we can talk.”

---

OFF THE COAST
THE NUADAM

The small naval task force, under the command of Admiral Uzanda, was released by General Nkoro from their duties off the north shore. As the land and air forces seemed to have things in hand. The landing craft and LCS ships would remain, but the MSR Fazembe and escorts would continue on.
Before they were to fully steam ahead for Hemar, as was the plan, it was thought that they could linger a little farther off shore, while the FACs did a couple rounds circling the Island. There were some vessels that had turned up during aerial observation that both the Admiral and Nkoro had agreed to stand to be vetted further. More of the Mubatan navy was being mobilized in order to enforce the blockade called for by President Fazembe, but in the meantime, it was left up to the Fazembe Task Force to begin operations. With the Governor yet to have turned up, it was feared that he might be on board one of the vessels. Were he to escape, on top of the destruction of the Governor’s mansion and the Chynelle garrison, it would be another propaganda blow to the Liberation Task Force. Likewise, if the remaining Ossorian Marines and military personnel were to escape capture by fleeing by boat, it would also make a mockery of the Mubatan efforts.

The timing was however, too late for the Mubatans to intercept the MV Sea Maiden, as it was but a dot on the horizon by the time two of the FACs crossed the path of where it had left the docks at Dunkitt. It had initially been ignored, seen as a merchant ship, when the LIRCAS recon aircraft had done their sweeps over the Dunkitt area. With children aboard, debatably, the ship would most likely have been released to carry on its way, anyway. With a Shalumite flag flying, that of their allies, they would most certainly have thought twice before even hailing and boarding it.

One boon of good luck in the Mubatan navy’s favor was capturing the facilities at Bergel intact, where the RON had stationed their small patrol vessels. While not a full naval station, it would serve as a good base for the numerous FACs, present and future, that would operate off Yolenga to enforce the blockade and harass any inbound response from the Ossorians or their allies. At least until they could build expanded facilities, it would serve a useful purpose.

[Nalaya]

Maralik

Alis came forward at a sauntering pace, her rifle cradled in her arms just in case this peace wasn't quite so peaceful. She hadn't realized the government of the island had changed, but then again, she was barely aware of anything beyond the other Nalayan villages. They all kept in close contact, making decisions jointly because it gave them more voice when dealing with the Governor. "Welcome, Paron," she said, dipping her head in a polite nod. "I am Alis Varazhnuni. I speak for Maralik. Last I heard, the island was under Ossorian rule. I would venture a guess that the transition is not a peaceful one, so you must forgive me for my caution."

She watched them with cool but hawkish dark eyes, looking remarkably calm for the situation she was in. Her life had been in danger so many times that it wasn't even worth getting worked up over. The clock of her life had already frozen, anyway. All of this was just bonus time. She also knew that there were plenty of trained former soldiers covering her back, so even if she died, there would be a hell of a fight. Alis was tall for a Nalayan woman, standing about 5'7", with the deeply tanned skin and dark brown hair that marked the Nava'ai.

Still, these days, she liked to expect the best of people. Maybe they really had come in peace. Who was she to say? That certainly entitled them to Nalayan hospitality if it were truly the case. She knew there was coffee and food waiting if that was the case. It was about lunchtime anyway. What was a few more mouths? Their harvest had been good.

What the Nalayans wanted more than anything, what they had always wanted, was to be left to their own devices. They accepted the nominal rule of the Ossorians, but had the issue ever been forced, they would have reacted...unpleasantly. If the Mubatans were similarly hands-off, there was room for coexistence. If not, well, they would settle things in the ancient and accustomed manner.

[Mubata]

NORTH OF DUNKITT

About an hour after Nyaza had interrogated Captain Hensey, he was summoned to the communications room by the radio agent on duty. The young man pointed to one of the encrypted satellite phones. “You have a priority urgent call, Sir.”
The phone was labeled ‘LIBCOM’ - Liberation Command Headquarters.
He hesitated for a second, then picked up the phone.

“Yes, who is this?”

“General Nkoro.”

“Ah, the General himself! It is quite an honor to talk with you direc-...”

“Cut the shit, Nyaza! You have something of mine!”

“Something?”

“Someone. The Dunkitt garrison commander. The female Ossorian Captain. She was our prisoner. Really, cut the shit. You know who I’m talking about.”

“Ah, yes, she is my guest now. We are delightfully entertaining each other.”

“I’ll bet. I know your definition of entertaining. You took her from my men, right under their noses, off one of our trucks. She needs to be returned to our custody.”

“It sounds to me like the issue you have is with your own men and not me, General. They seem to be losing things and quite the pushovers.”

“I don’t have time for this. What have you done to her?”

“We have just had a chat. Some of my men might be a tad aggressive with her, but it’s helping her to see the error of her ways.”

A groan could distinctly be heard over the line.
“Listen Nyaza, I am the commander in charge of all operations on Yolenga. You will return her to our custody immediately.”

“I don’t take orders from you, General, as I think you’re well aware. My orders come from the Director only. You need to remember that the reason we have her is to provide intelligence to your command. That is our main mission, after all.”

“Fat lot of good your intel has done us so far. You didn’t warn us that the Governor’s Mansion or Chynelle would be mined.”

“That was out of our hands, General. Besides, I think your angrier at your own men for walking right into those traps. Your officers might have gotten a clue when they received no defending fire from within the bases…”

“Enough! They did the best they could with the information they had at the time.”

“If you say so, General. There is another, higher ranked officer that was at Chynelle. A...Colonel Agnell.”

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line.
“Major Amwill, you mean?”

“Who...How do you...?”

“We can perform some basic intelligence functions, too, Nyaza...Without torturing. It’s simple. The Ossorians we took at Dunkitt have been overheard voicing concern about their commander to each other. Listening instead of tormenting does wonders.”

Nyaza had no reply. There was a longer pause as the General took that in and changed his tactics. He took another stab at it.
“What will it take to get her back in our custody?”

“Well you could give us the Governor for starters, when you finally capture him.”

“I don’t think that will happen. If we do happen to take custody of him, you can be rest assured that what occurred with the Captain won’t happen again. I think that even Papa Lini will agree with me on that one.” There was another pause as the General worked through his next thought,
“You want to hang on to the Ossie Captain without us interfering? You need to do something for me, then.”

“I’m listening...”

“Stay away from the Nalayan towns. Don’t send any of your agents into any of them. Hands off completely. Your meddling could make our relations that much more difficult on the Island."
He didn't want to lay It on thick but such actions would certainly strengthen the resistance, and doom the liberation to failure.

“Mmmhhmm.”

“...Also, I want to know the Captain is being treated as a proper POW from here on out.”

“Fine. We’ll do our best, with the Captain, but...she’s stubborn. She tends to bring it on herself.”
Nyaza had no intention of complying with any of General Nkoro’s requests in the long run, but he would pay whatever lip service he could to secure what he wanted.

“I mean it, Nyaza. No more mistreatment. We’ll be watching.”

“Watching, how?”

“Well, maybe we just need to make a friendly visit out to your facility there out on Galway Road. The Education Archives building isn’t it?”

It was Nyaza’s turn to take a long pause. Nkoro had just declared that they knew where Nyaza’s ops were run from and had eyes on him. His men hadn’t exactly been stealthy, but neither had he thought that the Army had been aware of their setting up of the small facility north of Dunkitt, with all the other operations they had going on. Nkoro was wilier than Nyaza had given him credit. They would have to move operations immediately.
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to do that then. I look forward to your visit. I can comply for now, but we will need information from the Nalayans to complete the bigger picture.”

“We will take care of it. You will receive reports from our scouts and civil affairs officers. That should suffice.”

“Good. Fine...For now. I will try to convey your concern for our girl to my men. We shall try to deliver you the location of the Governor and the Major, in the meantime.”

“That would be most satisfactory. I look forward to hearing of your progress.”

Without being able to say farewell, the line was dead with the General’s last note of disdain still in the air.

---

MOVING

Within minutes, Mr. Nyaza, The Facilitator, had his men in action. They began to crate up the equipment and anything not worth moving was destroyed. Metal barrels in the back courtyard were stuffed with papers to be incinerated. Trucks and vehicles were loaded.
Finally, the prisoners in their custody, including Captain Hensey, were guided out to vehicles to be transported.

Meanwhile, a fallback location was activated. Special teams of the Directorate moved in. A tea plantation northeast of Tyddewi, just on the edge of the jungle, had been deemed a perfect location. The estate owner was a prosperous descendant of Ossorian settlers named Uileog MacHugh. MacHugh’s plantation was one of the major exporters of tea back to the motherland up north.

The teams moved swiftly under the cover of darkness. One took the MacHugh family, herding them down the stairs. The servants residing in quarters followed. Another team was rounding up the workers from a barracks not far from the plantation house. Once they were all gathered in the back gardens. The MacHughs were executed, down to the last child, then they began to pick out some of the servants. When the workers raged or showed extra emotion beyond typical shock, they kept those servants alive, obviously spouses or relatives of some of the workers. The workers and servants would be needed to keep up appearances, taking scheduled deliveries and dealing with vendors...At least until it was no longer necessary. All this was explained by Nyaza’s right hand man, Sataga, as he directed the operation.

Soon, the vehicles from the old D57 HQ began to arrive to set up shop on their new grounds, the MacHugh Plantation, which was much more spacious than the old Education Archives building north of Dunkitt.
Accommodations were made for the prisoners, as parts of the cellars were cleared out and iron bars were installed by special engineers that reported only to D57 Chief Agents.

While the mortar and cement dried, the prisoners were put in other bare rooms under heavy guard. Hensey, kept separate from the other prisoners, was kept in a temporary room with two guards on her the whole time. It was probably the last night in a while that she would be able to get a few hours sleep without having a glaring light shining on her at all hours.

---

DUNKITT

The Ossorian POWs taken by the regular Mubatan army, meanwhile, were processed through in a much more proper manner and treated far better. Pictures were taken of each Marine or sailor, and as much information that could be documented was taken down in order to comply with WA conventions. The school gymnasium was not to be their home for much longer as they were transferred into the recently secured Dunkitt Royal County Jail, in the heart of Dunkitt. While they might get an occasional epithet thrown at them such as ‘Mataifa’ (heathen) or ‘Nyeupe Shetani’ (white devil), they were treated reasonably well by their guards as they were transferred to their new digs for an extended temporary stay until a proper internment camp could be set up in the interior.

---

MARALIK, YOLENGA

The two Mubatan special operations troopers stayed put in their fast attack vehicle, tense but ready for whatever may come. The NCO sat behind the wheel, ready to back out quickly, while the Lieutenant stood up, casually draped over the roll bar as he eyed the Nava’ai woman approaching the vehicle.

"Welcome, Paron," the elder Nalayan said, dipping her head in a polite nod. "I am Alis Varazhnuni. I speak for Maralik. Last I heard, the island was under Ossorian rule. I would venture a guess that the transition is not a peaceful one, so you must forgive me for my caution."

Lt. Dukaza nodded, with a slight bow of respect.
“Bibie Varazhnuni, I am Lieutenant Dukaza of the Doa Group, Hyenas, of the Mubatan Army. You are correct in your guess that there has been a transition, bibie...madam. Your caution is perfectly understandable. We hope to restore peace soon, but there are a few holdouts that are determined not to let that happen. Know that we mean you no immediate harm, and hopefully...no future harm, either. But that depends on you.”
He raised an eyebrow and awaited the questions he was sure would follow.

---

NUADAN OCEAN AND YOLENGA

The Fazembe Task Force continued through the night on their course towards Hemar, minus several fast attack craft and the littoral combat ships. Viggen fighters based out of Gyata continued to give cover to the Task Force for as long as they could within their range, until one of the two Ilyushin air refueling tankers of the MAF could come online to supply future patrols in the next couple hours. The E-53 Ghosthawk AWACs was already on station over the AO and providing up to date intel to both the Task Force and the token force that was left at Yolenga, as well as LIBCOM.

The Army engineers on Yolenga continued to work long hours, completing the new air strip north of Dzowaz, ensure the compatibility of the Dunkitt civilian strip and make the necessary conversions. Meanwhile, they ensured that any other facilities that could be enhanced on the Island were also getting some attention. Contracted civilian crews were already being signed up back on the mainland to help with fortification preparations, as the combat engineer units couldn't possibly cover everything that needed to happen in a short amount of time. They were already being worked to exhaustion.

Troops were flown into Dunkitt to reinforce the Island over the next day, and more would follow as they prepared to turn the former Ossorian territory into what they hoped would be an impenetrable fortress. Equipment and more troops would soon be loaded on the littoral combat ships as soon as they returned to the Mubatan coast. Until proper barracks could be set up, crates of tents were delivered so that camps could be established. Aid stations tended to the wounded who had been hurt in the battle for Dunkitt and the severely burned from the explosions at Chynelle, who were trucked in from the East.

Teams from D57 continued to spread out across the whole north of the Island, clamping down on any perceived dissent and seizing anything that might possibly aid the Ossorian military personnel that were still at large, or recording it in their logs. A plan was in place to establish a firm network of agents and informers over the whole Island, despite Nkoro’s protestations.

[Delkora]

Airspace Over the Nuadan Ocean

A P-3 Orion of the Royal Delkoran Navy's Fifth Fleet cruised through the night sky, high above the thin layer of clouds lingering over the Southern Nuadan Ocean. The twelve man plane was commanded by Sublieutenant Eldred Valgemyyr, a fourteen year veteran of the Navy. He had served all fourteen of those years with the Fifth Fleet, and during that time had conducted countless patrol missions like this one. This was the first one he could recall, however, in which they were on the lookout for Mubatan ships and not Syaran ones.

The Fifth Fleet's primary role was deterring Syaran aggression here in the Southern Nuadan, as well as protecting the Kingdom's trade routes. This was normally boring work, as this particular corner of Tyran was relatively peaceful. The past couple of days, however, had put Valgemyyr and his fellow seaman on edge. He had first heard about the invasion of Raithir while ashore on Hemar and recalled vividly the shock of his Ossie counterparts. No one had seen the invasion coming, least of all Ossoria. Now, it was playing out on TV for all the world to see. Images of Ossorian Marines being taken captive and Mubatan soldiers coming ashore flooded the news. All eyes were now on Ossoria, as the world waited to see how it would respond. But eyes were also on Delkora, which had a fairly sizable naval presence in the region. If the people calling the shots in Norenstal wanted to, they could help the Ossie's retake Raithir. This, however, was a question of will. No one really wanted to go to war, least of all the people who actually had to fight it. Sure, the combined forces of the Ossorian and Delkoran militaries could easily take back the island, but there would inevitably be casualties, and no one wanted to be the one to die fighting for a rock in the middle of the ocean.

"First Lieutenant, I'm picking up multiple surface ships bearing 315 degrees azimuth," Chief Petty Officer Evra Halgaard, one of the sensor operators, announced.

"Please tell me they're Ossorian."

"Not likely, Sir."

"Son of a bitch."
If these ships were heading for Hemar, the game had changed drastically. From what Valgemyyr had heard, the plan as it was right now was essentially to stand on the sidelines and let the Ossorians sort things out themselves. But he doubted there would be a sideline to stand on if the Mubatans made an attempt on Hemar. If it fell to the enemy, the Fifth Fleet would be severely compromised. What's more, there were Delkoran citizens on Hemar, most of them family members of Fifth Fleet sailors.

Valgemyyr flipped a switch on his control panel, putting him in contact with the DNS Tyris, the flagship of the Fifth Fleet.
"Pelican 1 to Tyris, be advised we've detected multiple surface ships heading in the direction of Hemar. Presumed hostile."

One of the other sensor operators spoke up: "Multiple fighter aircraft detected in the vicinity of the ships."

"Shit. Get us out of here before they see us."

---

Nuadan Ocean

The aircraft carrier DNS Tyris floated stoically off the coast of Hemar, the island just a faint line on the horizon. Pale moonlight reflected brightly off its hull and the collection of aircraft scattered about its deck. Much of the crew was asleep at this hour, and only a few technicians and deck officers were up and about. Inside the bridge, Rear Admiral Feldryn Balvenor was busily sorting through an influx of messages from Central Command when his lieutenant, a young man fresh out of the Naval Academy, barged in.

"Rear Admiral, a Mubatan naval task force is heading toward Hemar."

"Notify the Ossorians."

"Yes sir!"

When Balvenor had been first been commissioned into the Royal Navy as an ensign back in his younger days he, like most who joined the Royal Delkoran Armed Forces, had not anticipated ever seeing significant combat. The Kingdom hadn't fought in a major war in over forty years and its military escapades since then had largely been confined to minor counter-terrorism operations in Sumiria, a few of which Balvenor had taken part in. Other than that, his country generally tried to stay neutral when it came to international affairs. He was confident that the present conflict was unlikely to expand beyond its current scope unless the Shalumites got involved, in which case this regional skirmish might devolve into a full-blown war. This possibility was one which everyone was acutely aware of, but avoided talking about.

The Rear Admiral reached for the satellite phone beside his command console. He had to make two calls. The first was to Central Command, to notify them of what was most likely an impending invasion and receive instructions on how to proceed. The second was to Major Sedric Alduin, commander of the small company of about one hundred Marines attached to the Fifth Fleet, who were likely about to be called into action.

[Nalaya]

Maralik

Alis sighed a little bit. She could feel the storm coming in her bones, as a woman who had known war all her life. This would be another one. It seemed fate had more intended for her than a peaceful life and a carefully dug grave. She didn't like the way he mentioned future harm, but she knew her people were inclined to fight like vipers for their homes if it came to it and no doubt the Mubatans would object if they felt those teeth. "Have you and your men eaten today? If not, you are welcome to food and coffee." She turned her head. "Hovhannes, bring these men some water."

It was a well known fact, at least in Nalaya and to their neighbors here on the island, that hospitality was enshrined in the souls of even the hardest, most vengeful, most wicked people among the Nalayans. After all, if one killed a guest, one could expect a reprisal immediately, even from allies. Whether or not these men realized it, that offer and the gift of water meant that Alis was indirectly granting them safe passage through Maralik unless they did her or the village some particularly grievous wound.

She looked back up at Dukaza. "We have only one request, Paron Leytenant, in exchange for our cooperation. That is, quite simply, to be left alone. We have had lifetimes of war. We want no more of it. Even lions sometimes wish to sleep. You and your men are welcome to my hospitality, but understand that all things under heaven have their limits." It was rare for Black Alis to warn anyone or give any indication that she was less than harmless, but she did so now in the hopes that the Mubatans would not mistake hospitality for weakness. Nothing good could come of that.

Many questions stirred around in her thoughts, but she did not give voice to them now. "I will have to confer with the other leaders of my people to reach a truly binding agreement between our villages on what is to be done, but you may rest assured that whatever the little disagreements there may be, that is what we will want. To be left alone." Her voice carried the most weight out of all of the others based on her past experience and significant z'ress, as most were actually followers of L'i'dol, though they had their fair share of other faiths mingling with surprising ease. Finally, though, she settled on one question over all the others. "Is there someone I can contact later if I have questions or if I need to speak to someone? A point of contact? I assume you gentlemen have many other things to occupy your time with, as milits'iayi men."

She could feel that dark, creeping cold in her soul slowly rising. The passionless, calculating, frigid woman who had survived the worst for so long through the powers of indifference and cruelty. If there was a war, it would most assuredly come back and she could not promise that its mere reappearance wouldn't destroy these fragile things she had surrounded herself with: friendship, love, home, safety, certainty. The others would all be the same way, ready at a moment's notice to turn the machetes they worked with to weapons of war or the knives they carried from chopping and peeling to stabbing and ripping. Too many of them were here in Raithir because they couldn't go back to Nalaya, not only because they had no wish to. They lead gentle lives now, built families, but one could scrub for decades and never get that deep black out of the soul. What they were doing was just painting over it. One scrape, and it was right back on the surface.

Her expression had settled on calm neutrality, though she did offer Dukaza a small smile when Hovhannes, a boy of about twelve, came bouncing out of the nearest house with a plastic, gallon jug of water for the soldiers. He was a child old enough to remember the frightening times, but not old enough to have understood them. He passed Alis the jug, who stepped forward and offered it up to Dukaza. "In good health, Paron."

[Mubata]

MARALIK

"In good health, Paron."

"Thank you, Bibie."
Lt. Dukaza took the water jug carefully from the older Nalayan woman's hands. He stepped down out of the vehicle with it and then took a long drink from it, before lowering it.
"I thank you for your hospitality. I know that it means a lot, as it does in our culture...Especially when someone like me just shows up unannounced. We will have to pass on the offer for food for right now. We need to be on our way soon as there is still much work to do, but again, many thanks for the offer."
He leaned and passed the jug to SSG Fimbala, who had not moved from his spot behind the wheel. The Hyena NCO took it and started to drink as Dukaza continued.
"Trust me, I understand that you all want to be left alone. We would like that to be the case. I also understand the weariness of war, and hopefully, we can minimize the chance it ends up on your doorstep here...
I was not trying to be menacing earlier, but convey to you that your request is possible...with conditions. Those conditions are that you and the other Nalayan villages do not aid, or support in any way, the Ossorian resistance, or the Mubatan resistance, either. As we speak, my teammates are in other of your neighboring villages, offering the same deal."
He swept his hand out in the general direction past the river.

"Some of the Ossie Marines escaped our net, and are roaming the bush right now. They will be rounded up soon enough, don't you worry, but in the meantime it's crucial that they are not given safe haven. Should any of you be caught doing so, well then...all deals are off. Any town caught aiding the enemy will be dealt with rather harshly. Other than that...you may get a visit from us from time to time. A wellness check, if you will. I can give you a radio channel to memorize to contact us as well." Dukaza took the jug, which was now sitting on the hood of the Spider, and took one last drink. He started to hand it back to Alis.

"Oh...one last thing. You may in fact get a visit from men who look like us. Black like us. Same uniforms as us, maybe with black MP armbands. Probably led or accompanied by blacks in civilian clothes. Maybe not...If they were sent by General Nkoro, our boss, they will have a password for you...ha!"

He pointed over to where a Raithirian Imperial butterfly (Nymphalidae Imperium Raithirus) had landed on a yellow flower by the side of the road and was stretching its large blue and orange wings.
"Coincidentally...the password is 'butterfly'. If they can not provide you the password, they are Directorate 57. You have the General's permission to deal with them as you wish in such case. So, bibie...Do we have a deal?"

---

ON THE NUADAN

The Mubatan E-53 Ghosthawk AWACs was heading to catch up with the Fazembe Task Force, accompanied by a flight of Viggens equipped with anti-ship and some anti-air missiles, as well as the other MAF air tanker. It's range had come close to detecting the Delkoran AWACs to the West by mere kilometers, but had been off by just a few minutes when the Delkoran aircraft had already veered off.

The airlift of troops and supplies to Yolenga had slowed over the course of the night, but flights continued unabated as construction equipment and supplies, along with civilian crews, took priority. The Genesis built planes rotated in and out from the heavily guarded airstrip at Dunkitt.

At a certain point, the new airstrip north of Dzowaz also came online in the early morning hours of the next day to handle some of the load and disperse troops and equipment more easily to the east side of the Island. The planes had much rougher landings on the hooked together metal strips of the temporary air field, but they managed alright.

[Nalaya]

Maralik

Alis studied Dukaza, hunting for any sign of duplicity in his face. If she thought she'd found it or not, she gave no sign. "I believe so. At the very least, I understand your conditions," she said in a pleasant, if somewhat neutral tone. She was thinking and thinking hard about what submission would mean. She wanted to keep her head down and her people safe, but sometimes there was a better chance of that if one fought. The mention of MPs was slightly worrying. Her natural assumption was that they would have been under Nkoro's command. "Your military police, we cannot expect them to conduct themselves respectfully as well? Why?"

Once she had her answer, Alis accepted the jug back and bowed her head to Dukaza. "Thank you for the password, and the radio channel. These...gentlemen from Directorate 57, they will not be as welcome as you are. Take care on your journey, Leytenant. You have been a good guest, and it would not please me to know that a polite man such as yourself ran into unpleasantness."

Directorate 57 were not good news, but Alis had never had an objection to killing if it was required of her. She knew precisely what her priorities were. The health and well-being of Mubatan secret police were not precisely foremost on her list. She was struggling with herself inside. She wanted to lash out almost instinctively at anything that threatened Nalayan lives, very much including a Mubatan invader. She was tempered only by the knowledge that they had a great deal to lose.

But when had neutrality ever been possible in a warzone? When push came to shove, they would have to decide where to fall. Alis was more inclined to side with her neighbors than General Nkoro, even if she had a certain distaste for the Ossorians with their aristocracy. She had no real love for the Governor, but he had at least left them well alone. If Directorate 57 didn't do the same, Alis decided grimly, then the deal was most certainly off.

She waited until Dukaza and his men were gone to go back to her people, who had slowly come down from the roofs and out of the houses where they had waited near windows with weapons. The murmuring had already begun: What does this mean? Who were those men? Does this mean the Ossorians are gone? What happens next? She wished she had all the answers, but she really didn't.

"What are we going to do?" Belaern asked quietly after he approached. It never sit well with him to let Alis handle these things alone, but he knew that she needed her space when the cold started to creep back into her soul.

"We're going to call for a meeting," Alis said, her expression deeply pensive. "The others will answer it if they've been contacted by the Mubatan army too. And after that? We will do our best to mind what is ours as best that we can based on what we decide. If Directorate 57 comes here, however..." She didn't need to finish the thought aloud for Belaern to recognize the chill in her expression. The Nalayan woman cleared her throat. "We will dynamite that bridge if we come to it."

"I will pray we have no need to," Belaern said. He hugged her tightly for a moment, then let her go. "I will explain to the others while you go contact our neighbors. It will take some time to get everyone together here in Maralik."

"Heaven-sent man. What would I do without you?" Alis said fondly.

He chuckled. "For one? You would starve to death. I've seen you try to cook."

Alis shot him a look, but didn't reply. "I need messengers!" she called instead, raising her voice. There were regular buses that ran between the Nalayan villages, the lifeblood of commerce. Now those would serve another purpose besides conveying workers and produce and chickens. "You can volunteer yourself or I can volunteer you, boys! Let's go! I need one to Tsaghkadzor, one to Martuni, one to Agarak, one to Metsamor, and one to Jermuk!"

There was some discussion among the group of teenagers that had clustered in the shade nearby, but eventually five stepped forward, some of them eager and some not so eager. She knew most would be pleased to get out of work, however. "Ayo, Tiruhi," came the uneven chorus. Each one received careful instructions before being sent off of exactly who to find, what to say, and when they were expected to arrive and return. At the same time, Belaern gathered everyone together.

Life would go on almost as usual, other than people checking and rechecking firearms and, here or there, sharpening the knives that were not work knives. There was a heightened sense of awareness, a perception of growing storm on the horizon, and a definite desire to protect their fragile peace.

The word was going out.

[Mubata]

MARALIK, YOLENGA

Lieutenant Dukaza wavered as he eyed the old woman. Ultimately, it didn’t take him that long to decide it wouldn’t matter if he told her more about the dreaded Directorate 57, the intelligence arm of the government and the Army.
“The military police...it’s complicated, but basically, they were given over to the Directorate as a check on the Army, or as a punishment if you will...Some of the plotters of past failed coups were top Army officers. Now, the MPs of the 17th Msaidizi Regiment are all hand picked by Director Kefuma and his deputies. They are all Tizi tribesman, most of them from the same district in Karalaga as where the Fazembes originated from, back before taking over the Presidential mansion. Prominent families from that district usually see their sons and daughters join the Directorate. Not so prominent families in the district have their sons join the ranks of the thugs in the military police...That or applicants that flush out of the Directorate join the military police. They are paid better than regular soldiers and pampered. They could hardly be considered real soldiers. They go through a different basic and advanced training than the regular Army, camps run by the Directorate. Honestly, we loathe them. A lot of them are psychopaths, usually hopped up on something and always ready to tear into their next victim. They’re the enforcers of the Directorate when they can’t be bothered to send real agents.”
He spit in the dirt, so tangible was his distaste for the topic.

He leveled out as he climbed back into the passenger seat of the Spider FAV.
“The channel is 17.2 MHz, if you need, but I’m sure we’ll be around again soon. Again, wellness checks... Take care...When these others show up, whoever they may be, I hope you make the right choice. May Mama Nchi bless you.”
He motioned to Fimbala, who slowly backed the vehicle away, before turning it around to head back over the river and the bridge out of town.

---

KARALAGA, MUBATA

They sat in the Operations Center of the Presidential Mansion. Papa Lini had an array of satellite photos splayed out around him on the table, while a briefing D57 agent pointed to them.
“...These are the warships in dock at Hemar as of two days ago. We don’t think they’ll be under way until at least another day. If we can overwhelm them with the anti-ship missiles, there won’t be much left to deal with out on the Nuadan later.”

The Mubatans didn’t own any satellites, let alone have a space program. No one made any mention or notice of the fact that each photo had the letters ‘S.T.G.’ stamped in the right corner with a small Shalumite flag. Aside from the satellite photos, they were also fed constant data from the Shalumite fleet off the Nalayan coast that was in support of their troops fighting in the Nalayan civil war. The Ossorians had their allies that fed them extra intel, and the Mubatans had theirs.

“Aren’t these Delkoran ships in the harbor? This aircraft carrier?” General Dzolema, the CIC, inquired of the briefing agent, as he tapped on some of the photos.

Director Kefuma answered for his subordinate.
“There are some at port from time to time, but we’re reasonably sure that their fleet is out to sea on patrol right now. I remind you these are a couple days old.”

The Minister of the Navy sighed.
“I have to submit my protest once again, Mr. President, General...Sending out what amounts to…this fleet.” He held back from saying our whole navy, as Papa Lini wouldn’t hold up well to having his bubble burst. Not right now.
“...Is near suicide. What we have to gain from the raid on Hemar is much less than what we could potentially lose, which is the flagship named after your father, plus two of our prized corvettes. Which…” would be the bulk of our capital ships for the entire navy sent to Davey Jones’ locker “...would be bad. And the Delkoran fleet doesn’t look to be out at all, not to mention the Ossorian ships in the area. ”

President Fazembe leaned forward to stare at the Minister.
“What do you propose? They turn tail and run?”

“No sir, not at all. We have the planes with the anti-ship missiles, Sir...Why not just make it an air raid? The planes don’t even need to get very close to launch. Mr. President, If we lose so many ships now, it endangers our defense later wh...if the Ossorians mobilize to retake the Island. So, the ships just...stop. They lend support to the raid but don’t close to engage. Stay out of range.”

Fazembe scowled. He obviously expected some epic naval battle on the scale of one of the World Wars, without realizing the true disparity between the fledgling excuse of a Mubatan navy and the enemy.
“Fine then. We will go with the Minister’s plans.”

General Dzolema spoke up,
“That still doesn’t solve the problem of what to do about the Delkoran ships. What if one is hit by accident? That expands the war beyond the scope of what we…”

“Are you a General or a grandma?! Make sure your planes and missiles don’t hit the Delkoran ships. Simple as that. It’s a little late for all this pussy footing now, Dzolema. You’re starting to sound like some of your boy, Nkoro’s whining reports.”
Fazembe stood up.
“Sink me some of those Ossie ships. Make them think twice about coming after Yolenga.”
He exited the operations center as grandly as he had entered, without a look back.

[Ossoria]

Palace of Parliament
Kenlis, Ossoria

The low rumble of conversation was brought to a sudden end by the sharp crack of the speaker's gavel as he called the plenary session of the Dail to order. Most of the members of the three chambers were present, grouped into their respective chambers; the 829 Peers sat on one side of the plenary session chamber and the 500 Delegates on the other, with the 16 representatives of the Kingdoms and their equivalents as well as a handful of members of the executive seated in front of them. The High Queen, wearing military regalia and holding the Ossorian Scepter, was seated on a throne located behind the Speaker's position at the front and center of the room.

"The matter before this session is the Realm's response to the invasion of Raithir," the speaker said once he was satisfied that he had the room's attention. "As the chamber charged with primacy in matters of war, the chair will recognize the leader of each coalition in turn to present their coalitions' position on the matter. The Chair now recognizes Lady Ennis Galeri, the Honorable Leader of the Crown Nationalist Party and Taoiseach of the National Assembly."

The speeches which followed were broadly predictable in their content. The Nationalist coalition wanted to take decisive action to avenge what they saw as an unacceptable affront to Ossoria's honor, prestige and sovereignty. The Most Loyal Opposition, the larger of the two opposition coalitions led by Sir Arwel O'Hea of the Social Progressives, wanted to try and negotiate with the Mubatans before committing the realm to further hostilities. The Third Coalition, led by Munro Vaughan of the New Ossoria Party, instead argued that the island wasn't worth fighting a costly war over, principally on the grounds that the island did not constitute Ossorian soil and the people who lived there were, by and large, not really 'Ossorians'.

The response from the assembled parliamentarians was immediate. Where there had been applause, both politely feigned and real, for the other two politicians, the moment that the statement had been made, many of the Assembly Delegates stood and shouted at him, their collective shouts colliding into an unintelligible morass. From the other side of the aisle, a solid majority of Peers glowered at him in what they hoped resembled something like dignified silence compared to the rowdy Delegates. But it was the representative from Raithir who glared at the New Ossorian's leader as though he wanted to throttle the man.

For over two minutes, the Speaker attempted to reign in the assembly, managing to actually break his gavel and resorting to using its head to try and return to order. "...ORDER! Now, having heard the coalition leaderships outline their positions, I open the floor to debate," he said as he checked his light board to see who had requested the floor. "The Chair recognizes Her Royal Majesty, the High Queen."

Tara stood and handed off her scepter to one of her aides before descending to the chamber floor. "The Honorable delegate Mr. Vaughan and I have had many political differences over the course of his tenure," she said, "but never in my wildest imagination did I expect him to debase this nation's honor and sovereignty like that. The people of that island, and many others both within our realm and without its borders, trust us to stand by our word. To not make some kind of attempt to retake the island is to categorically admit that we will not hold to our word. How then could our allies in Delkora and Arkoenn trust us to come to their aid in their time of need? The simple, inevitable result would be that we would become a pariah, unable to be trusted by anyone ever again. I, for one, am truly astounded that anyone would have the sheer gall make this kind of a proposal in this body or any other with any kind of connection to this government.

"But assuming for a moment that all of that did not matter and we were insane enough to accept his proposal, I have a simple question for Mr. Vaughan: at which point do we fight for our rights as a sovereign nation? Where does it cease to become a convenience and become an imperative? Do we abandon Hemar to its fate? Most of the people there are not ethnically Ossorian, even though they have accepted our rule and protection and are larger than some of our closer territories, not to mention a solid contributor to our economy and defense. Do we surrender Vaddon? It is by far our smallest territory and lies a fair distance from any of our other territories. Should we yield the your own home kingdom of Tarvi, Mr. Vaughan? Its population is barely a quarter of Hemar's, so it should be no problem to simply evacuate everyone at a fraction of the cost of actually defending it, right? Where do you draw the line, Mr. Vaughan?"

Tara let the silence hang palpably in the air for a minute before continuing. "We owe all those who willingly place themselves under our protection the full measure of that pledge. Regardless of who they are, what they look like, what they believe or how far they may be from this city. That is our debt of honor to those who look to us for leadership and strength. As such, as High Queen, it is my intention to contest this unwarranted and unconscionable assault upon our sovereignty, by force of arms if necessary. To do anything less is to do an unforgivable disservice to all who will come after us, and to render the greatest possible insult to the memories of those who have given all that they had to make us what we are today."

The applause which followed as she ascended the dais to the throne seemed to threaten to bring down the entire building and it persisted for several minutes despite the Speaker's vain attempts to bring the chamber back to order. over an hour later, the assembled parliamentarians voted out a resolution in which they condemned Mubata's invasion, demanded Mubata immediately withdraw from the island and that it be returned to Ossorian control, and authorized funding for combat operations against Mubata. The member parties of the Third Coalition fractured, with some voting against the resolution and others in favor, trying to save face or demonstrate their principled opposition to it. Whatever their intention, it was clear by the news the next day that they had suffered disastrously from the political fallout of their positions, with their position in the polls plummeting as the word spread.

[Delkora]

Ministry of Defense Building
Norenstal, Delkora

"That's not an option, Admiral," Chancellor Azengaard said firmly.

The small, windowless conference room in downtown Norenstal was occupied this evening by several high-ranking officials, including Minister of Defense Felgar Denryyr; Minister of State Abarath Dagenwald; Minister of Intelligence Bedric Albryn; Admiral Gaylia Elmeron; and of course the Chancellor himself, along with several aids, all seated around a long table littered with intelligence documents, maps, and diagrams. A map of the Southern Nuadan was projected onto the wall.

Admiral Elmeron looked to her boss for support.
"Chancellor," Felgar said, "it's likely our best option at this point. Even if we just take out their airstrip north of Dzowaz we'll at least slow down the flow of reinforcements to the island and make it a hell of a lot easier for the Ossorians to take it back."

"I'm not comfortable hitting targets on Raithir until we have eyes on the ground. I don't want to risk killing civilians. Or Ossorian POWs for that matter."

"A blockade is another option."

"If we do that, we might as well just go with your original idea, because I don't think the Mubatans are going to sit back and let that happen."

"We could pull off a distant blockade." He pointed at the map being projected onto the wall. "We already have ships stationed between Hemar and Syara. They can just intercept any ships headed for Mubata. If the Shalumites intend to funnel in supplies, that's the most likely route their ships would take."

The Chancellor took a sip of coffee and rubbed his temples as he sifted through a pile of satellite images of Raithir and Hemar. Between this whole mess and the usual parliamentary machinations he had to deal with on a daily basis, he had not gotten much sleep over the past few days. Felgar had been pushing hard for an intervention in the conflict. Azengaard still planned on putting off such an intervention as long as possible, but he appreciated his Defense Minister's persistence. In general, he welcomed differing opinions and was glad to debate members of his cabinet. As a former lawyer, he knew that the best course of action usually only revealed itself after extensive argumentation.

"A blockade looks good on paper, but it would constitute an act of war under international law."

Felgar had been a lawyer once too.
"A 'blockade' is an act of war. A 'partial naval quarantine' isn't."

"If we're going down that route, I would recommend only blocking weapons shipments." Abarath interjected. "It'll look pretty bad on our part if we turn back an aid convoy."

"Quite. Do we have to go through Parliament to implement a block...sorry, 'partial naval quarantine'?" The Chancellor asked.

One of his aids jumped in.
"The Trade Protection and Reciprocating Tariffs and Quotas Act of 1976 empowers you to direct the Navy to cut off trade flows passing through international waters for up to 30 days before consulting Parliament. After that, Parliament has to approve any extensions."

"Very well. Start drafting an order."

"Yes sir."

"Now then, I think we've been ignoring the elephant in the room. What if this taskforce is headed for Hemar?"

"I don't think I need to emphasize the strategic importance of Hemar," the Defense Minister said. "We have no doubt the Ossorians can defend it themselves, but given our naval presence in the area, it will be hard for us to justify sitting back and twiddling our thumbs while the island is being attacked."

"I think we're in agreement then. Hemar is where we draw the line. Tell Rear Admiral Felderyn to blow that taskforce to hell if it crosses into Ossorian waters."

"What of our citizens on the island?" Abarath asked. "They might be caught in the crossfire if it's is attacked."

"How many are there?"

"25 that we know of."

"We can fly our people out by helicopter if it becomes necessary," the Admiral said. "I doubt it will come to that, though. The island is heavily defended."

"Very well then. Keep me informed, Admiral," the Chancellor said, rising. His colleagues stood as well. "Hopefully we'll have this mess sorted out fairly soon."

[Mubata]

Kiwinui Air Force Base, Hemar
0645 hours

Jet turbines whined to life, shattering the stillness which had permeated the rosy gloom of the predawn air. Commander Amiri Herangi ran through an abbreviated preflight check as he guided his F-34 Shrike air-superiority fighter out of its parking slot. Over the radio in his headset, he heard the voice of the air traffic controller directing the alert fighters towards the base’s runways for takeoff.

“Warlord 1, this is Kiwinui Tower, you are cleared to taxi to Runway 09.”

“Kiwinui Tower, Warlord 1. Taxiing to runway.”

Moments ago, the wing’s orbiting AWACS had reported low-flying contacts approaching from the south, on a course of which the most likely point of origin was the now-occupied island of Raithir. The response from Hemar’s Air Defense Command had been prompt: the current alert fighters were ordered to scramble immediately, meet up with the roving two-fighter element of the flight which had been airborne, and head south to intercept the incoming threat before it reached the islands.

“Kiwinui Tower, Warlord 1 at Runway 09.”

“Warlord 1, this is Kiwinui Tower, you are cleared for takeoff.”

“Warlord 1 cleared for takeoff.” As Herangi advanced the throttle, the whine of his fighter’s turbines gradually turned into a roar. After releasing the brakes, Herangi’s fighter raced down the runway, gathering speed before clawing its way skyward.

---

OVER THE SOUTHERN NUANDAN OCEAN
HALFWAY TO HEMAR

Flights had taken off from Gyata Air Base, off the mainland, as well as from Dunkitt, for the attack. Two flights from the 4th Mwari Squadron: Nyundo and Kishindo, made up of Macchi MD-339FD bombers, were escorted by two flights from Kivuli Squadron: Shoka and Upanga. Another four Viggens from the 3rd Kivuli, Mkuki flight, escorted the E-53 Ghosthawk AWAC, while the air refueler hung back. The Macchi bombers were equipped with the anti-ship missiles, while the Viggens had a load of air to air missiles. The intel had been doubtful as they took off, but they had been given the green light anyway.
Ultimately, Major Zahur Hyamfa, also known as Shoka Actual, had the power to override and abort the mission if it was evident that they were flying into a trap, or that the opposition was too much.

The MAF were the leveler when it came to the war against Ossoria, making up for the serious lack of naval vessels that the Mubatans could match to the mighty Royal Ossorian Navy.
So losing major amounts of aircraft to the enemy this early on was not deemed to be worth the risk that a raid on Hemar might gain to deter the Ossorians from organizing a counterattack from their Hemar territory. Still, the operation would be attempted in order to take out some of the Ossorian navy that would eventually bring retribution to Yolenga.

Hemar was now the closest Ossorian base from which Ossorian forces could be launched, along with their allies, should the Delkorans so be motivated to become actively involved. The satellite intel provided by their own allies, the Shalumites, had documented to some degree, the major dispositions of both the Delkorans, and Ossorians, nearest they could tell.

However, it was already in doubt that 5 days into the war, the Ossorians would leave their ships sitting targets in port. The whole raid, known as Operation Mguu, was suspect. Based off both the satellite intel, STG intel and D57 intel from spies sent on civilian merchant boats and fishing trawlers (a favorite Trojan horse of Directorate 57), they had a good idea of where the Delkorans usually berthed ships of their Southern Nuadan fleet, versus where the Ossorians typically docked theirs.

Mubata had no wish to drag the Delkorans into the war, no matter how much they might be looking for an excuse to come to the aid of the Ossorians. Problem was that there weren’t any more updated photos since the last batch, back near the start of the conflict days ago.

All this sat heavy on the shoulders of Major Hyamfa, in the lead Saab Viggen, as the strike force approached the Kijani (Green) Line - The line of both likely detection and radio silence. The line of final mission launch.
Soon enough, they passed over the Mubatan task force that was maintaining station in a relatively tight circle in the middle of the Nuadan ocean, between Yolenga and Hemar. As they passed over, they wagged their wings in salute to the Mubatan Navy ships. A flight, depending on the next few minutes of action, would most likely be detached to cover the Mubatan ships that were below them. More flights were being readied at Gyata and Dunkitt to come to the aid of the small, outnumbered task force, and their comrades in the air.
The line of no return, the Green Line, was now one minute from being crossed.

He let out one last transmission on the supposedly encrypted channel for the mission:
“All flight leaders, this is Shoka Actual. Prepare for RS. Last checks. Nyundo and Kishindo, ready arrows hot.”

“Roger that, Shoka Actual. Nyundo Actual reporting Nyundo is arrows hot.”

“Kishindo Actual. Kishindo is arrows hot.”

“Roger that. You all know your roles. May Mama Nchi smile down upon you. Nguvu!”

“Nguvu!”

“Nguvu!”

---

RAFINDA

MPs and Directorate 57 agents were hard at work constructing their special demonstration in the center of the town, where events typically were enacted. This event was not one that was either typical or probably desired by the Rafindans. A center beam that ran for several meters was propped between supports on either side. Stakes were planted in the dirt underneath the center beam, measured with exactitude by the MPs that worked a sweat to construct the dastardly devices on time for their master, Mr. Nyaza.

While some of the guests of honor came from Rafinda, some were being trucked in from the south, at Bivkawa, and also from the West, over the Slebima mountains.
A pair of MP guards came forth to wake Captain Hensey from her slumber and recovery from her latest ‘interrogation’ session in the cellars at the new D57 HQ on the Island. Once a prestigious plantation that shipped quality tea back to the High Kingdom, the MacHugh plantation was now home to the worst depravity that Yolenga Islanders, Mubatan, Ossorian or Nalayan, had ever witnessed. Hensey was not the sole prisoner in the custody of D57 at the MacHugh Plantation, but for now she was the toughest and longest lasting of all their recent additions.

A transport helicopter was being readied to take both the host, Nyaza, and his main guest of honor, Hensey, off to the Northeast. To Rafinda.

[Ossoria]

Commander Herangi and the rest of his flight of four had formed up with the other ten alert fighters from the 21st and 49th TFS and just went feet-wet when another voice came over the encrypted radio.

"Warlord 1 this is Lookout," the voice said, identifying it as belonging to the currently airborne AWACS, "Hemar Air Defense Command has just declared the approaching aircraft hostile and has authorized you to engage. Bandits are inbound from 130, we estimate approximately sixteen enemy aircraft of uncertain type."

"Warlord 1 copies all, moving to intercept now."

"Be advised, Air Defense Command has also declared the airspace over and in immediate proximity to the islands a no-fly zone: do not come within ten nautical miles of the coastline without specific clearance. Command cannot risk damage to the port facilities with Third Fleet due to arrive tomorrow for resupply. Anyone who needs to return to base needs to switch to channel 137, we'll get them home."

"Copy that, Lookout. Warlord 1 clear." Commander Herangi waited a moment.

"Alright kiddies, you all heard the man: it looks like Command is going to let us do something about these bastards coming in who think that they can roll over us like they did Raithir, so it's time to show them who rules these skies. Once we start the dance, break into element formations and engage any and all targets in the area."

"Viper 13 copies."

"Blackjack 5 copies."

"Keep your head and stick to your wingman. Now let's go hunting!"

[Mubata]

OVER THE NUADAN
APPROACHING HEMAR

An MAF Viggen takes off from Gyata Air Base.

Major Hyamfa looked over to his wingman, Shoka Two, who was also known as Lieutenant Garika. The profile of the Viggen was obvious from this distance, and even from further out, a lot of the veteran Mubatan pilots were quite familiar with their own side's birds.

The Viggens had been the foundation of the MAF for some time now, ever since they had come into service in the 80’s, along with the Macchis that were also a major aircraft for the Mubatans. While they had desired F-14s and F-16s to replace the aging F-4 Phantom IIs and A-6 Intruders in service at the time, they had been denied by the Westerners who manufactured the aircraft. Garenga Fazembe had even tried to acquire communist bloc aircraft like the MiGs and Sukhois that were popular with up and coming nations nations like Mubata, coming out from the umbrella of colonialism. He was close to his goal and had emissaries working out negotiations when fortune smiled upon Mubata.

The Leopard Republic had stumbled upon a golden deal. An unnamed nation had been invaded in a lightning blitzkrieg. The occupying nation had captured whole squadrons on the ground intact, the Viggens, the Macchis and other top aircraft. That nation, in order to support their occupation, sold off the aircraft to a notorious arms broker, who in turn, sold it to Mubata in an incredibly affordable package deal that Papa Gengi could not refuse. Training on the new aircraft began in earnest, and a few pilots and aircraft were lost in the late 80's.

That was some time ago, but the MAF pilots were now well familiar and proficient with the Viggens and Macchis, having trained and flown them for so long. Where the planes were not expected to measure up toe to toe to today’s top of the line fighters, they had served the Mubatan Republic well enough during small border conflicts and the civil war against the insurgents. It was hoped that pilot skill would help bridge that gap with later 4th and 5th generation fighters, but there hadn't been such a major test for them against a superior force since their introduction into the MAF.

Major Hyamfa was pulled out of his reverie for his Viggen love by his radio coming to life. It was a shock as they were on radio silence.

“Shoka Actual this is Roho One.” It was the E-53 Ghosthawk AWAC, whose range was far greater than the Viggens and Macchis radar. “You have multiple bogeys scrambled from Hemar. They are on an intercept course.”

It was what they had expected. It was now up to Shoka and Upanga flights to fend off the enemy, in superior fighters, in order for Nyundo and Kishindo flights, the Macchis, to get close enough to lock on to the RON ships and let loose their anti-ship missiles.

Hyamfa let out a long sigh. He said a small prayer and then acknowledged. Major Hyamfa, not the Ghosthawk crew, had command over the whole mission, and took the mantle of blame, should they get swatted out of the sky.
“Roger that, Roho One. Shoka, form up on me. Upanga, Everyone...stick to the plan.”

The various flights kept on course, with only Shoka actually diving lower to the deck, not far from the whitecaps below, as they spread out in finger formation.